Larmes du Soleil
by MojoFix
Summary: X2: Xavier's people must learn to live in a world where things aren't quite as black and white as they thought. Will Rogue find the control she's been searching for in the touch of a killer?
1. Of Motorcyles and Mercenaries

A/N: This is the first fix I've actually published. Its basically just one huge character study with action and adventure thrown in. Feel free to review, no matter what you thought of it. Striker came to the mansion, but it didn't work. I'm going on from there. Thanks!

CHAPTER ONE:

"That had better not be what I think it is, Felix." Illyria jogged down the stairs towards the garage at Xavier's mansion a little faster and Felix upped his pace to match hers. He could smell the engine grease too. They burst through the door and into a scene he just _knew _was going to cause trouble.

The mutant who had been introduced to them as "Rogue, just Rogue" was cross-legged on the ground looking at a disassembled version of Illyria's Ducati. Her _favourite _Ducati. Felix swore. Gathered around Rogue was a crowd of teen students, watching avidly. Remy LeBeau entered behind Felix too, sucking in a breath at the sight.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Illyria's voice was remarkably calm, Felix noted, but her eyes were blazing blue enough to match the cobalt, azure, cerulean and Brandeis in her hair. Rogue looked up innocently. Oh Mary, mother of God, help us. Felix prayed.

"Someone in the mansion got a new motorcycle. Cool, huh?" Remy uttered a desperate '_merde_' before Illyria spoke again, her voice still eerily calm.

"No, they didn't." Rogue was looking worried now, finally picking up on the badness of this situation. "That's _my _motorcycle. My Du-fucking-cati!" Then, the shit hit the fan.

Illyria darted forward and wrapped one gloved hand around Rogue's throat, hauling her to her feet and slamming her into the garage wall. It wasn't the gasps and screams from the students that got Felix moving, it was the crackling royal blue dagger that was forming in his partner's left hand. If the psychic weapon got stuck into Rogue's head, she'd be completely scrambled, if not dead.

"Snowflake, put her down." He prayed the telepath would do what he asked, for once. He was facing Illyria full on, so it was out of the corner of his eye that he saw tears stream down Rogue's face. He'd already smelled them though. Illyria's hold on her throat tightened, her toes no longer even brushing the floor. "Blue, just put the kid down, I'll buy you another one, just put her down." Dammit, he wasn't going to beg. "Please, Illyria." Or maybe he was. Rich blue eyes, glowing with power, met his black, Native American ones.

Then it was over. Illyria dropped Rogue so fast, the young mutant collapsed to her knees. The 'brain scrambler' was reabsorbed and Rogue was dragged to 'safety' by her friends.

"How long did it take you to do this?" Illyria asked.

"A-all the time y-you were in the meeting, I guess a-about four hours?" She stuttered. "Oh, Gawd, Ahm so sorry, ah didn't-" Illyria just cut her off with a wave, the _shut the fuck up or I'll kill you all over again _went unsaid.

Felix could smell the fear pouring off the kids. It was rich, all engulfing, and sweet, like treacle. For a minute he just let himself enjoy it. It was one of those smells he could taste. He was used to fear, but usually it was gross, dirty, drug addicted fools who sweated terror near him. This, this was different. He was glad London wasn't there: that was escalation in and of itself – oh, wait, Illyria was talking.

"Get Caroline to cancel my appointment." He nodded and pulled out a communicator. When it snapped open, a computerised voice greeted him as warmly as it could.

"Good evening, Mr. Graison, what can I do for you?" Caroline was the Artificial Intelligence software that kept their lives organised. She was a program that was built into The Pit years ago and the resident technopath genius, Sherrylin-Bliss, had been building up on it ever since.

"Caroline, sweetheart, I need you to cancel Illyria's ten o'clock, we ran into some… road issues." He looked at the bike. "Reschedule for tomorrow, please?" The damn computer didn't even hesitate.

"I'll do that now, Mr. Graison." Small pause. "Will yourself and Ms. Payne be back for an evening meal, sir?" He sighed. _Fuck,_ he just wanted to get home.

"Make it a late one, tell the others not to wait up." He closed the comm. And caught sight of its clock by accident. It was already half past nine. In the PM. He'd been up for thirty two hours. Dammit. He pulled a band of his wrist and gathered up his, thick, straight, black hair. Tying it easily at the nape of his neck, he looked back at the kids. "You wanna see some mechanic skills? Check this." He and Illyria put their shapeshifter speed into putting her baby back together. They were done two hours later.

Driving a motorcycle didn't offer much opportunity for conversation, but plenty of time for thought. Felix rode on the back, contemplating the day's meeting with Professor Xavier and his wonderful, righteous, hard working X-men. He told himself for the thousandth time not to mock them.

….

Felix and Illyria had arrived at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters a good two hours early. From outside the wall, they checked on security cams, exits, windows, entrances, fire escapes etc, etc. All S.O.P. They came up with as good an exit plan as they could without the blue prints, and placed bets on what the X-men wanted.

At exactly 4:00 pm they knocked on the huge front door. A woman with red hair, green eyes and a friendly smile opened up for them. She directed Illyria to the garage and then welcomed them both to the Xavier Institute (was it a 'school', or an 'institute', he asked himself). Drinks were offered and declined, for the moment.

The accepting and un-judging façade she had going was ruined a little when he felt her probing at the walls around his mind. Not so lily white then, he thought. He saw the moment she realised he knew what she was doing. Her cheeks flushed red and she looked away. It was kinda cute actually, so he gave her a winning smile. Illyria did not such thing. That was why he was the one who did the PR, and she did the clean up.

"Professor Xavier will see you in his office, right this way." She led them through the ground floor of a mansion that was nearly as grand as The Pit. The Professor's office was nice: windows, bright, airy – still not as nice as Victor's. Maybe mercenaries just made more money than Professors.

The man who put "X" in "X-men" was actually kinda impressive. As the face (not the leader) of an international anything-for-cash company, Felix wasn't easily impressed, but Xavier's quiet dignity couldn't be ignored. Felix appreciated impressive. The middle-aged man wheeled himself around the desk and shook both their hands.

"I'm The Reverend," Felix stated, "and this is Vicious." Illyria just waved a little - not much of a people person. They were both introduced to Strom, Cyclops, Wolverine, Jean, and a bunch of younger mutants (who were then dismissed). Xavier wheeled behind his desk and Felix took the opportunity to greet his old friend. He shook Remy's hand and they embraced.

"How you been, _mon ami_?"

"Good, my man, good. Business is good."

"Aisling?"

"Aisling's getting so big now, you should see her, she's beautiful."

"She sixteen now?"

"Seventeen, just." The Cajun turned to Illyria.

"Smurfette, blue as ever!"

"Don't make me break that pretty face o' yours, Cajun. I'd be indicted for crimes against humanity!" She hugged Remy tight.

"Non, _ma petite fluer_, they would _try _to indict you." She cracked a smile.

"I was under the impression," The Professor began, "that I would be meeting with Cardinal and the… ahem… Undertaker?" He seemed unsure of the names, Felix tried not to snicker.

"Victor and Cardinal are on their way back from Europe as we speak. You've caught us all at a pretty bad time. Holiday rush, ya know." He winked. Remy hid a laugh. "I hope you don't mind doing business with little old me." He didn't think it necessary to mention that he ran a good chunk of the world's black market. The professor just gave him a blank, professional smile and nudged at his metal shields. Felix pretty much _saw _Illyria's hackles rise. She fucking hated telepaths screwing around when she herself was being good. The professor apologised. Maybe not so impressive… "What can Larmes du Soleil do for you, Professor Xavier?"

"As you may be aware, this mansion as recently infiltrated by a group of rogue paramilitary operatives working for Colonel William Striker." Felix didn't see fit to mention not only had he heard about it, but he had also known it was going to happen. "It was unsuccessful, as Logan was able to fight them off, with the help of the other X-men. No one was harmed at all. However we wanted to make sure nothing like this ever happened again." He paused. "I was going to get a security firm to help me, but Remy suggested perhaps it would be best to have the mansion secured by people with the very expertise used to get in. He said he himself did not have the skills necessary to cover every angle, but he had friends who did." He gestured at them. Felix's eyes met his partners and she opened the psychic link. _I won the bet,_ she whispered.

Felix was surprised when Illyria spoke up before he did. She was usually content to sit back and look scary, which she did very well.

"Should Larmes du Soleil take this job, and I'm not promising we will, you need to understand that there is no security system in the world that is completely flawless." The professor nodded, but the other X-men started to look a little nervous. Evidently they hadn't considered that possibility. Idiots.

"I am aware of that," the Professor said, "but I would like to do what I can to ensure the safety of my staff and students." He looked determined, and Felix could respect that. He understood the 'protect your own' mindset, but he just wanted to reach over and pat his shiny, bald, little head and tell him not to be so naïve.

"Professor, as a mutant, I appreciate everything you do, not only for your own people, but for all mutants. The Reverend and I both agree with your views on mutant-human cooperation and so far Larmes du Soleil have turned down no less than twelve contracts on the lives of you and your X-men." Well, that made them gasp. Felix smirked, but Illyria just kept on going, she didn't give a flying fuck what they though. "Not to mention how many times we've been asked to steal the technology to replicate Cerebro. But regardless of my political views, this endeavour will cost. A lot. We're talking man hours, hardware, software, cutting edge technology."

"Money isn't an issue."

"We'll give you a discount because of Remy, maybe 10%."

"Thank you."

"Let me make a call?"

"Of course, you'll have privacy just outside the door." She stood and slipped out her cell phone. Felix held up a hand.

"Be sure you mention they'll need a Four Toys of their own." She rolled her eyes.

"London's gonna throw a fit." Felix shrugged, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"Fuck him." Illyria just rolled her eyes. The boys liked to antagonise each other a little too much. All the macho shit was tedious, but healthy.

Felix hoped maybe they'd all just be quiet while she was gone. The righteous vigilante fighter thing made him nervous. In their eyes, he was a murderer, a killer, a mercenary. Well, he was a killer, a mercenary. Among other things. But whatever. It was his job. Some people were doctors, some were lawyers. He was a drug-pushing, arms-dealing, information-selling pimp. He occasionally went on jobs, but mostly he marketed.

"Tell us about these contracts, kid." Felix's brows flew all the way up. Kid? Who the fuck was this guy? Oh yeah, the Wolverine. Eh, he tried not to be offended – he was much, much older than he looked. Shapeshifter plus!

"Its bad business to share client information, Mr. Wolverine."

"I don't give a shit about your business, bub." Felix ran a hand over his eyes, and again managed to choke down on his smile. Ah, these people. All so naïve.

"Tell me, Me. Wolverine, do you believe the world is a good place?"

"What? What's that got to do with anything?"

"If I start telling everyone about everything my clients want, I'll be bleeding out in the gutter by dawn tomorrow. If you do business with us, Mr. Wolverine, you play by our rules. Secrets are power. Power is necessary for survival. I plan on surviving." The Wolverine bristled, growling, he walked towards Felix, intent on getting the information his way, but he hadn't heard Illyria come in. She just took his collar in her fist and held on. Hurray for shapeshifter strength!

The Professor must have talked Wolverine down telepathically, because he came off the warpath. Illyria let him go without a word and returned to her seat.

"We've got a green light." She announced. There were sighs of half relief half regret. These people didn't know what the fuck they wanted… The next four and a half hours were spent discussing how it would all play out.

Eventually it was decided the job would be done over the Winter Break, which would begin in a few days. All of the younger students would be returning to their families, and only the few older ones and the staff had nowhere else to go. Victor had offered to allow them to live at The Pit for the two weeks it would take to wire the mansion up. The offer had been accepted.

…

"You really think this is the right thing to do?" Logan raised a brow at the Professor. They had just heard Illyria's motorcycle leave the property. Xavier steepled his fingers on his desk and leaned forwards. He was hoping perhaps Larmes du Soleil would decide to change their ways. They would, after all, make very good X-men.

"I believe, Logan, that if risks are not taken, goals are not achieved." He saw Remy's head hip round, the thief's eyes sharpened.

"You can't fix 'em, professor." He warned. "They won't like it if you try. De two you jus' met? Dey de _tame_ ones. You try to mess wit dem, dey scew us all up." He waved his hands to encompass all the X-men. "Victor's a great guy, da best, but he is who he is, and you can' change it. His family mean' de worl' to him. Just do y' business an' let it go." No one seemed to understand, so he just shook his head. "Remy's telling y'. Don't fuck wit' Larmes du Soleil. Dey're called dat fo' a reason." Then he walked out.


	2. Welcome to The Pit

**A/N: Time spent introducing characters and the like. Will hopefully go into more plot in the next few chapters. R&R please. **

**Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN ANY of Marvel's characters. Not for profit!**

**CHAPTER TWO:** _Welcome to The Pit._

It was dark by the time everyone from Xavier's had arrived at the address they'd been given for the home of Larmes du Soleil. Rogue looked up at the huge, Gothic style mansion. It was different from Xavier's mansion: all glass and wood and brushed steel. Modern, that was the word. There were no porch lights on, and no lights had guided them up the winding drive. The fountain next to where they'd parked was off and the only hint that there might be someone home was the soft glow of light that peeked out from around the curtains on a few of the first floor windows.

Jubilee came to stand beside her; a duffel bag slung over one shoulder.

"You think we'll be okay?" Rogue shrugged. She reached a gloved hand up and touched her throat. She clearly remembered the scary blue woman's hand across it, cutting off her air. She was going to speak, but the huge double front doors were pulled open. The Reverend stood in the rectangle of light for a moment, looking for all the world like a king, but then he stepped back and gestured for them to come in.

Rogue stepped over the threshold into the foyer and gasped. Three stories up, the ceiling was beautiful. The centre was a domed skylight letting the stars wink down for the New York night, and it was surrounded by a painting of summer sky. Clouds floated along, surrounding the central skylight. The lights were switched off up there, so it was mostly in shadow, the effect was now eerily like the night sky. It must have been designed that way.

The next thing to take her breath away was the floor. It was a huge mosaic of two dragons caught in an epic battle. The first was snow white with pale green eyes and silver claws and fangs. The second was a deep midnight and in the middle of breathing a huge column of gas-flame blue fire. Everyone but Remy was so captivated by their surroundings, they didn't notice a woman with bright red hair coming down the grand, sweeping double staircase.

She walked silently, her pale green linen pantsuit framing a comely figure beautifully. Regal and elegant were the words that came to mind. Her eyes were gun-metal grey and they surveyed the crowd quietly. She said nothing until she reached the bottom of the stairs, but then she must have noticed Remy.

"Etienne! It's been so long!" She crossed the foyer and reached him, looking over him much like a mother would. "Have you been taking good care of yourself? Sleeping okay?" She traced the lines of his face with quick, slender hands, her eyes alight with joy. "You're so handsome now! All grown up!" He took her hands in his and bowed his head.

"As always, Cardinal, I am honoured by your happiness." He got on his knees and Rogue couldn't help but let her mouth fall open. "Forgive me, Goddess, for not paying my dues." Even his accent was gone! He kissed both her hands and raised his eyes. He wasn't kidding! She'd never seen Gambit be so serious, he was _always _talking some shit!

"Stand up, child, your presence alone has me forgiving your transgressions." He rose and she turned to address the other eleven people. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the home of Larmes du Soleil." She somehow managed to look everyone in the eye. "My name is Cardinal, you have already met Felix and Illyria." She indicated the Reverend, but Vicious was nowhere to be found. "There are nine of us living here at the moment, and you'll meet us all at some point: hopefully tonight. In the meantime, a meal has been prepared for all of you. I would offer you the chance to unpack and freshen up, but some of you will be staying with people who are not present at this time. You may leave your bags in here." She turned to walk away, but threw more words over her shoulder. "Remy, you now the way to the kitchen." Then she was gone through one of the arches.

Rogue spotted Felix leaning up against one of the banisters, watching silently as everyone got organised. She saw Storm stumble, one of her bags tumbling down, but Felix was there in a flash of inhuman speed. He caught Strom, then the bag and held both upright. Ororo blushed and looked away, taking back her back and looking at the ground. Felix just went back to his space by the stairs.

Black jeans covered his long legs, a little worn at the knees, but still presentable. His torso was covered in a wine red button down shirt. It shimmered a little in the light - silk, maybe? The rich colour of his skin glowed beneath the foyer's artful lighting. His hair was in a French twist at he back of his head, falling down past his shoulders. Almond eyes watched Xavier's people as they all put their things down.

When they were done with that, Remy and Felix walked them to a huge kitchen. The atmosphere managed to be homely and modern with a side of comfortable. The cupboards had enough scratches to show they were well used and the eight seater table had papers scattered on it. The island was set up as a buffet and they were all told to take their fill. Roast beef, potatoes, salad. Remy and Cardinal talked in quiet voices.

The man who dished out the salad had dark grey hair and hazel eyes. He introduced himself as Victor and didn't say much after that. Maybe he was the help, Rogue thought. A place like this must have help. That theory was shot down when he took the head seat at the head of the eighteen-seater dining room table though, with the opposite end offered to the Professor.

Illyria joined them for dinner, and she was totally different from the last time Rogue had seen her. She was happier smiling, laughing, joking. And there weren't dark circles under her blue eyes anymore. Rogue got a good look at her for the first time. She must have been about 5"8, and 120lbs. Her hair was in layers, with the bottom black and the rest a thousand different shades of blue. All the beads, charms and shiny things braided into it would have looked strange on anyone else, but she made it work. Rogue wondered if her hair was natural.

"Yes, it is." Rogue dropped her fork.

"How did you…?" Illyria waved a hand.

"You were thinking real loud. I didn't mean to, it just…" She motioned above her head. Rogue tried to apologise but she was waved away with a smile. It appeared Illyria was in a bitter mood today.

Halfway through the meal a girl who looked about seventeen rushed in.

"Sorry I'm late!" She kissed Felix on the cheek and sat down to eat.

"Everyone, this is my daughter, Aisling." She waved. Aisling's hair was just like her fathers: long, black, thick. When Rogue looked at her, she was met with almond black eyes, exactly like her father's, but her skin was much paler. She had one of the most captivating smiles Rogue had ever seen.

The X-men began to relax. Conversation struck up and everyone was talking and laughing. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

…

When diner and desert were over, Rogue was helping clean up when the kitchen door swung open. A huge mountain of a man lumbered in. He was African American, with a shaved head and dark eyes. The holdall he'd been carrying hit the hardwood with a thump. They were alone. After a moment, he extended his hand.

"I'm Haven. Haven Van-Cleef." She shook his hand.

"Rogue. Ahm just Rogue." He threw his head back and laughed

"You messed with Illyria's bike?" She blushed and looked at the ground. "Oh, God. High five. She threw a huge fit! Priceless!" She nervously slapped his palm, but he didn't seem to notice, he just kept smiling. "Here, let me help you with that." She realised she was still holding two plates in one hand. "You one of the Xavier kids?" She nodded, handing the plates over. "You met all of us yet?"

"Nope. Just Felix, Illyria, Victor, Cardinal, Aisling and you…" He nodded, scraping a plate into the bin.

"You've got London, Kinessa and Sherrylin-Bliss left."

"What are they like?"

"London can be difficult, Kinessa's got him on a leash and Sherrylin's… different."

"Different how?" He paused and ran a hand over his face.

"She… ah… She hears voices, so she can be a bit… weird sometimes."

"Ah hear voices." He raised his eyebrows. "I mean, ah… Never mind." He raised both hands, palms out towards her, the universal gesture for 'I'm unarmed'.

"I'm not Felix, I ain't gonna get up in your biz, true? You hear voices, that's your deal." He went back to putting dishes in the washer. "Sherrylin gets visions. Past, present, future, the whole shebang. She can just be weird around people some times, feel me?" Rogue nodded. "You probably won't meet her at all, actually."

"How come?"

"She keeps to herself mostly, she stays down in the lab, plays with her machines, builds new shit. She doesn't even realise days have gone by…" He got a far off look in his eyes and Rogue had the weirdest feeling that she was intruding on a private moment. It was shattered by Jubilee who hopped in mid sentence only to freeze when she saw Haven.

He waved and introduced himself, but he seemed to have closed off. His eyes weren't soft anymore, but he still helped clean up.

…

As it turned out, the three boys: Johnny, Bobby and Piotr would be living with Felix and Aisling because it was the only flat with four bedrooms. Storm would stay with Illyria because hers had only two. Scott and Jean would be with Haven. Rogue, Kitty and Jubilee would be with Kinessa and London. Logan would stay with Victor and Cardinal and Professor Xavier would stay in a bedroom alone downstairs. Remy would have his 'old room' back.

Everyone but Haven was sitting in the living room, sharing a few stories and just making conversation when the front doors banged open, then closed. There was the sound of keys falling in a bowl, a bag being laid on the ground and almost silent footsteps coming into the sitting room. Then, the most beautiful woman Rogue had ever seen came in.

She held her head high and her eyes flashed with a fire that must have reached soul-deep. Wavy brown hair was tied up in a ponytail falling all the way to her waist, with skin a rich bronze and eyes the colour of dark chocolate, she held the room captive. Her features were sharp and angular, her lips perfectly sculpted. She wore a grey women's Henley and a forest green leather jacket over faded blue jeans. The outfit was topped off with knee high black calfskin boots and a pair of brown leather gloves. She put her handbag on the couch and looked everyone over. Her eyes landed on Remy, who had stood up. She looked him up and down, her expression as blank as white tile. Then she smiled and it was truly stunning. Remy hugged her, lifting her off her own two feet.

"_Il y a si longtemps! Vous avez l'air merveilleux!"_ (It's been so long! You look wonderful!) She cried. He swung her around.

"_Vous aussi! Vos cheveux ont repoussé, votre bronzage est de retour, ça te va bien! Aussi joli que jamais!" _(You too! Your hair has grown, your tan is back, you look great! As pretty as ever!) He replied, finally putting her down. Rogue felt a twinge of something she didn't want to think about as she watched him twirl her around. He turned back to Xavier's people. "Dis is Kinessa Ramirez." He grinned. She waved at everyone.

"Cardinal, has London said when he's coming home yet?" She asked. Her accent was exotic, Rogue tried to place it.

"He said before 5am." Kinessa just rolled her eyes.

"Men." She said. "Now, which of you is staying with me?" Kitty, Rogue and Jubilee raised their hands. "Bueno. Come with me." Aha! Spanish! Rogue congratulated herself.

They went the second floor and Kinessa took a left down the main corridor after coming up the huge staircase. Then she then took the corner, going right and all the way to the end. They were on the left side of the front of the house. She unlocked a set of double door and ushered them inside.

The first floor of the apartment was open plan, with a living room, dining room and kitchen; only the bathroom was closed away. It was all done in modern black and white, with the coffee and dining tables made of clear glass. The appliances in the kitchen were chrome. The flat was on the corner of the mansion, and both the far walls were made entirely of sliding glass doors that led out onto a terrace.

Over the back of one of the white leather couches was a neat pile of dry cleaning, mostly on coat hangers. Kinessa put her bags down and told them to follow her up the white spiral staircase. Rogue's bedroom (they'd already decided who would share and who wouldn't) was on the right as you came up the kitchen stairs, Kitty and Jubilee's was on the left and Kinessa's was in the corner. They each had their own bathrooms and walk in closets, not that they would need them. Kinessa left them alone to shower and unpack.

Rogue entered the room she would be staying in for the next two weeks quietly. She was tired and she just wanted to go to bed, but when she opened the door, her brain jut went blank. It was beautiful. The entire wall opposite the door was glass, it had blinds but they were open and she could see the night sky and the grounds of the mansion. The left and right walls were painted dark green and the one with the door was a little paler. The ceiling was white. Beneath her feet was pale wood, covered next to the bed by a green shag pile rug. The bed itself was queen size with green and white sheets and at least six pillows. Pale wood cupboards matched the floor and brushed steel light fixtures were well placed around the room. The bathroom was yet more green, with a big tub and shower, soft mats and a stock of toiletries she probably wouldn't need. Right, she thought, first order of business: shower.

Later in the evening, it must have been close to midnight, Rogue went back down stairs. Jubilee and Kitty were channel surfing on the flat screen and Kinessa was at the dining room table working on a laptop. She looked up when she heard Rogue.

"Go ahead and watch some T.V. I'm not sure when London'll be home, but - " She was cut off by the front door opening. A man in jeans and a black button down shirt walked in. His skin was pale and his hair was cut close to his head, military short. Aviator shades covered his eyes and he carried a hold all and a backpack. All 6"3 and 210 lbs of him managed to make the sizeable space look small. He took in the four women in his flat, then swung his backpack onto the dining room table.

"Ladies, this is London." Kinessa smiled up at him. His lips twitched in return. "Rogue, Kitty, Jubilee." She pointed out each one. Behind the mirrored shades, Rogue couldn't see his eyes, but she got the feeling he sized them all up. Moments that felt like years passed, but then he unzipped and upended his backpack. Colorful packets poured out all over the table.

"You girlies like sweets?" His accent was English and his voice was rough, but it caressed, it coaxed, it touched. Like sandpaper and silk. Rogue shivered. "We've got: Jelly babies, wine gums, strawberries and cream, I think there's some sherbet in there actually…" The three girls warily approached the table but he didn't seem to be paying them any attention, he was still rummaging through all the packets. When he found what he wanted, he pulled up a chair, sat next to Kinessa and popped a lolly in his mouth. "Seriously, girlies, go ahead. I'm not going to eat it all, yeah?" He waved at the collection. Rogue looked at Jubilee, who looked at Kitty. Then they went for it.

As she picket out a packet of sweets, Rogue watched London and Kinessa carefully. He still hadn't taken off his shades, but that didn't seem to bother her. Standing, he let long, graceful legs carry him in long strides around his kitchen

"There any food, lover?" He opened cabinets and peeked inside.

"Fridge. Beef sandwich." He located said sandwich and put it in the toaster.

"You're the perfect woman. Make me sammiches, hang up my dry cleaning, keep the flat tidy…" She just laughed. He came up behind her and bent down to wrap his arms around her shoulders. "How was Russia?"

"Cold. You'd think they could find someone who _likes _the cold to do firearms training. Outside. In the Russian _winter._ Apparently not." She grumbled and he chuckled, soft and low. "Yours?"

"Boring. Flight got delayed, hence the goodies." He nodded at the sweets. The toaster dinged and he placed a kiss on her throat before getting his meal.

Rogue, Kitty and Jubilee had divided up most of the sweets, but left a fair few for Kinessa. They were all munching at the table, watching London carefully. He was, after all, a man they didn't know. A big man they didn't know. He put his plate down on the counter.

"So what am I supposed to do with you three?" He bit into his sandwich, eyes still hidden by the shades.

…

Scott followed the huge African American through a set of double doors on the second floor, carrying both his and Jean's bags. They came into an apartment that was simple, but functional. It had a kitchenette, a table, a couch, a TV and two bedrooms, but nothing was particularly flashy: comfortable, but not flashy. A splash of personality was brought by the art on the walls. All the walls were covered by painting, drawings, watercolors and sketches.

"Did you do these?" Jean asked. She recognized some of the faces. There was one of Victor, standing on top of a building, looking own at the tiny shapes of cars.

"No." Haven replied. "Sherrylin… She does these." Jean nodded. She wanted to ask who Sherrylin was, _where_ she was, but something about Haven stopped her questions. He seemed like a man who only gave up information when he wanted to. He walked down a short hall and opened the farthest door into a spacious room with a queen sized double bed and a big bathroom. "Feel free to use the kitchen, the TV, all that stuff. There's a walk in closet through that door." He pointed. "You've pretty much got the place to yourselves, but if you need me just ask Caroline." He indicated the little computer screen next to the door.

"Thank you very much." Scott smiled. Haven just nodded and left. They heard the front door shut. "Well that was weird." Their bags made hardly a sound on the carpeted floor. The bed was bouncy when he sat on it. "So what do you think so far?" He asked her. Jean looked around and bit her lip.

"I don't know… I mean, they've all been nice… It's weird not being able to see their thoughts. I have no idea what's going on."

"You're not getting anything telepathically?" She shook her head.

"Just a hell of a lot of _'Get the fuck out'_, especially from the blue girl. They're all protected, but I can't tell if they've learned to do it themselves or if there's another 'path setting up barriers." She ran a hand through her hair. "Probably both." Scott pulled her down to sit next to him, stroking her hair gently.

"I'm sure we'll be fine." He planted feather-light kisses on her throat. Slowly, slowly, she relaxed onto the bed.

…

"I am Storm, but you may call me Ororo." The weather witch smiled. Illyria nodded.

"Storm's a kinda cool name… but Ororo it is." They were on the third floor, headed for a set of double doors, which Illyria unlocked and pushed open. The apartment was... unusual. It was all open-plan, but half of it was covered by a loft. The ceiling, which was just the roof of the mansion, was made totally of glass, the sky was visible, with all its stars and clouds. One entire two-story wall was made up shelves, cubbyholes full of little things. There were two couches, a small TV and lots of books. A few plants grew in the corner, and the kitchen had a bowl with two goldfish.

"If you don't like the skylight, I can find you another room…" Storm shook her head quickly, looking up in awe.

"No, its… it's beautiful. I can see the sky!" Illyria smiled and Ororo noticed that her canines were a little longer than most people's. "Why are your teeth… like that?" Blue eyes widened and Illyria reached up to her mouth. "Oh, no, I'm sorry… I didn't mean-"

"Its okay. Its my mutation, I'm a shapeshifter, but if I stay in animal form too long, sometimes I can't change all the way back." There was sadness in her eyes that Ororo couldn't figure out. "As for the sky," she pointed upwards. "Felix knows I'm afraid of cages. When he had the house remodeled, he made sure I could see where I was."

"That's very kind of him…"

"Yeah, Felix is pretty good to me." She grinned. "Okay, you can have the upstairs bedroom, its much more private." She led Ororo up to the mezzanine, which was in fact a bedroom. "You can pull curtains across over here," She showed her how. "There's a bathroom through that door, and a walk in closet through there, but that's got my stuff so you'll have to use the drawers – if that's okay."

"That will be fine."

"Okay, I'll be sleeping downstairs through that curtain over there." She pointed to the right of the kitchen, where thick blue velvet fell from the glass ceiling to the cherry hardwood. "Feel free to snoop around." Then she left, closing the front door behind her.

Ororo got her first good look around the bedroom. It was very simple, the bed didn't have headboard, but it was king sized with plenty of blankets and pillows. Side tables, shelves and counters were everywhere. The bedside table had three photographs on it. One was of Felix standing out in the snow, wearing a brown trench coat over a Gucci suit. There was a cane in his left hand and his hair fell over one shoulder, he was grinning at the camera.

Another was of little Aisling, she must have been about thirteen, wearing a pink dress and holding onto Illyria's hand for dear life. Illyria herself was trying to fix Aisling's hair. They were both frozen in time with smiles on their faces.

The third photograph was of a man Ororo didn't recognize. Tall and broad, even sitting down, he was perched on the front steps of a one-story house, elbows on his knees, hands hanging down between them, somewhere very warm (she could tell by the yellow grass at his feet and the blue sky.). A red tank top covered him from the hips up, and beneath that were black cargo pants. Beside him was a hold all and two sheathed swords. He was looking at something behind the camera – probably the person taking the photo – and trying not to smile. Rich brown eyes twinkled in the sun. His short brown hair was ruffled and unkempt, as if it had spent the last twenty-four hours with someone's fingers running through it…

Ororo looked around to make sure Illyria was gone, then lifted the photo and took it out of the frame. She flipped it over to see if the back was signed.

"Some people will always have Paris.

Wade."

The script was blocky, plain – there was nothing loving about how it was written. But somehow the words and the look on the man's face in the picture said more than anything. Ororo quickly put the photograph back where she found it.

…

Logan followed the red head up to the third floor, where Storm had gone, only they took a different door. The apartment he found himself in was more like an indoor garden. There were plants, fountains, flowers, waterfalls and even a parrot. When Cardinal walked in, she trailed her finger along the leaves and through the water. She coaxed, she spoke, she loved and nurtured – with a touch.

"What are you?" Logan asked, his voice as even as he could make it. She blinked big, gray eyes up at him.

"An elemental. All things natural, I am bound to." She slid her fingers up the stem of a plant and its leaves immediately grew fuller. She waved her hand at one of her waterfalls and the water stopped flowing, ending in a clear pool. "I realize my tastes in décor aren't for everyone, but don't worry, your room is closed off."

She led him to a door that was covered in vines; they pulled back with a flick of her wrist.

"Bed, shower, closet. Should you need anything, feel free to tell Caroline," she showed him the computer panel. "Victor and I will be retiring, as we have much to do tomorrow, but don't feel as if you need to do the same. This is, after all, your winter break. It's a holiday. Enjoy it. The only areas of the house out of bounds to you are The Armory, The Lab and The Archives. By all means, explore The Gallery, Library and Recreational Rooms - The Garage too, but please, no taking apart of motorcycles. I don't believe we could survive another one of Illyria's fits of anger, she has been wound so tight these days… ever since…" but she caught herself before revealing too much. The door closed behind her and he was left in the lap of luxury.

…

Johnny watched the black haired beauty walk in front of him like she fucking owned the place. Well, she kinda did own the place. Felix had gone out, So Aisling was showing them around. Johnny thought it was kinda stupid of the Reverend guy to leave his little girl alone with three boys, but whatever, each to his own.

"So where are we going exactly?" He asked for the third time. Why the fuck wouldn't she just answer him? Piotr smiled at her.

"If you don't min, could you please tell Johnny where we're going? He is annoying me." She gave him a breath-taking smile and nodded.

"My place. Or Dad's place, I guess." Johnny rolled his eyes. He was actually shocked she didn't sad 'daddy', which would have just pissed him off. He looked at Bobby, who gave him a 'be polite look'. He just rolled his eyes in answer. Eventually they came to a set of double doors on the second floor and she just walked in: no lock.

To say the apartment was huge would be an understatement. The floors were pale hardwood and the walls a light cream. The living room was a depression in the floor with dark brown couches, a huge flat screen and a bearskin rug. The walls were decorated with modern art pieces Johnny would bet his left nut were priceless. The fireplace was stylish, with a chimney of gray stone.

"You and you," Aisling pointed at Bobby and Johnny, "will be upstairs sharing next to Dad." She pointed at Piotr, "You will be next door to me." Johnny wiggled his brows at her.

"Why can't I be next to you?" He grinned. She looked him up and down, slowly. A sly smile spread across her face.

"Because you wouldn't know decency if it bit you in the ass. I'm a lady, mother fucker. Try to show some class." She looked around the room. "If you break anything, and I mean anything, you're buying it, which means you'll spend the rest of you lives spit shining the garage floor." Then she turned and walked up the stairs. She didn't add an extra sway to her hips the way most girls did around him. Weird.

…

Remy climbed the ladder into the attic above the fourth floor. He pulled himself up into the room he'd lived in when he was eighteen. After he'd been driven from home, he'd tried to steal a priceless ruby from The Reverend. Felix had caught his ass and dragged him back to The Pit, kicking and screaming. He'd literally dropped him in front of Cardinal and offered her his head – apparently the ruby had belonged to her. She'd taken an interest in his guild training and told him he could work off the debt he would have owed had he _succeeded _in stealing her ruby, or she could turn him in to the ops. Either way, she couldn't give a fuck.

So he'd stayed. He'd stayed longer than was necessary. He'd stayed for four years. Larmes du Soleil became his family. His brothers, his sisters, his parents even. They had treated him right and when the time came for him to fly the nest, they wished him well and offered all their support. He never came back to see them, he knew if he did, he would never leave again.

The roof of his room was sloped and made of wooden beams, with a few windows. He had his own double bed, small bathroom and cupboard. He'd chosen this room because of how different it was from the rest of the house, because of how removed it was. He flung open one of the windows and hopped out onto the roof. From his coat pocket he plucked a cigarette and lit up with the tip of his finger.

He was twenty six now. Four years since he'd been back –

He whipped his head around at the sound of footsteps. The hulking black figure behind him would have frightened anyone else, but he recognized London, even in the pitch black.

The Englishman settled with his own smoke and rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses.

"Bad night?" Remy asked. He received a nod in return. It had been four years since he'd seen London last, apparently the big man still got headaches – healing factor or no.

"You don't call, you don't write. I'm starting to think you don't care, Cajun." Remy chuckled.

"You ever wanted somethin' so bad you afraid o' it?" They both took drags.

"This about a chit?" One of London's brows came up.

"_Oui._ She's… somthin' special, you know?" A nod. "But it don' matter how bad I wan' it. Ain't mine to have." A sigh.

"Yeah, mate. I know that feelin'." Remy watched him lean forward, suck on his smoke, and rest his elbows on his knees. He'd always been afraid of London, always loved him and always respected him. The man had been to hell and dragged himself back reasonably sane. "Tell you what though, go for it. What you go to lose, except maybe time?" Remy nodded and looked out over the grounds of the mansion. He felt London watching him.

"Maybe Remy'll do that, _non?_" He felt a heavy hand on his shoulder.

"It'd good to see you again, Remy. I'm glad you took care of yourself." Then, just as quietly as he'd come, he was gone. That was the way with London: here one day, gone the next.

Remy looked across the roof, across the lawns and across the game courts and swimming pool. He chuckled to himself and remembered what Felix had said to him that first day eight years ago…. "_Welcome to The Pit."_


	3. Beauty and the Beast

**A/N: We're beginning to look at the characters more in depth now, discovering new things about each set. Please review, it feeds the muse. Even if you don't think its any good, some constructive criticism would be nice.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything to do with the X-men or Marvel comics, this is all non-profit.**

**CHAPTER THREE:** Beauty and the Beast

As for me, to love you alone, to make you happy; to do nothing that would contradict your wishes, this is my destiny and the meaning of my life.

London was a lot of things: smart, old, loyal and whole load of other shit. But he wasn't patient. He was known for coming up with amazing plans and then not sticking to them because the side of him that was a wild animal just didn't sit well with waiting. Heh, wild animal. He almost laughed. Not so wild anymore, are we, mate? Been tamed. Kept on a leash. Can't do some things, won't do others. He shook his head. Bullshit – this was where he belonged, this was who he was now, and he liked it. Liked it a hell of a lot more that who he used to be.

He switched off all the lights on the bottom floor of the flat he shared with Kinessa then sat back and put his feet up on the kitchen table. For the first time in thirty-two hours he took off his sunglasses and blinked. His head was pounding and he wished he could just sleep, but jet lag and a first class healing factor would do that to you. Fucking insomnia. Bloody, fucking insomnia. He hated it. With a violent passion. He wanted to beat the living daylights out of it, but that wasn't gonna happen. That was the thing with being an animal: when shit got annoying, you killed it. Only, he couldn't kill his own not-so-physical problems.

He threw his head back and scented the air. Three women. One was honey and magnolias, he was gonna guess the little southern girl, with the white stripes. Another was rosy perfume and coffee, must be the Kitty one. Third was... What was that…? Peaches? Yeah, peaches and fireworks. What the fuck? Must be the happy one. Last of all was his favorite. He drew in a lungful of air... Ah, there it was - the ocean and jasmine at midnight with summer rain. Kinessa. His Kinessa. His eyes snapped open.

On quick, quiet steps he flew upstairs, slipped through their bedroom door and closed it silently behind him. The moonlight coming through the two glass walls lit up her shape in their black sheets, not that he needed it. His night vision was good enough that he could shoot someone at a hundred yards on a cloudy, moonless night and not miss. He'd tried. It worked.

His feet made no sound on the black wooden floor and when he reached the carpet he took a moment to feel the threads work through his toes. If he was honest with himself, which he tried to be, he had missed home. Normally he would have said home was wherever she was, after all: home is where the heart is, isn't it? But he'd actually missed the flat, the house, all of it. Weird. Bloody weird. He'd lived here for nearly ten years, and it was only in the past two or three he'd begun to call it home.

Her chest rose and fell slowly, she was asleep. Not deeply, but asleep. He knelt beside her and bathed himself in her scent. He caught his _other side_ wanting to roll around in the sheets, cover himself in her, mark himself, so everywhere he went she would be all over him. But that would wake her, and he was almost loath to do so. One long, gentle finger moved a lock of brown hair from her face.

"You gonna kiss me, or just sit there?" He jumped a little when her eyes opened; he hadn't realized she'd woken. Although, why wouldn't she? She slept almost as lightly as he did.

"Yeah, lover, I'm gonna kiss you." His lips touched hers and he felt the spark. Literally. Her skin was covered with electricity, it was who she was. If he hadn't been able to heal fast enough, she could have killed him, but as it was, he just loved the rush. She sat up, put her feet on the floor and he knelt between them, trailing his lips down her throat. "Been gone too long, pet." One kiss on her shoulder. "Missed you." Collar bone. "Wanted to kiss you when I came in, but there was kiddies, couldn't." The top her left breast, his tongue flicked out to taste her. "Want to touch you, luv. Can I touch you?" He looked up into her eyes, rich, brown, full of love. Love for him. Love he didn't really deserve.

"Yeah. Yeah you can." He still asked permission. He didn't need to, she'd even told him not to before, but he still did. She was something sacred, precious, heaven sent. He always felt honored to be with her, blessed somehow. Tentatively, he placed his hands on her waist, feeling smooth warm skin through one of _his _shirts. That made him happy. He growled, smelling him all over her. This was how it was supposed to be. He smelled like her, and she smelled like him. Because she was his.

The animal inside his head spoke up. _Mine, _it said, _she's mine. Need to make her mine!_ And he did. He lay her down on _their _bed and both pieces of him made love to her, the man and the animal. Once, twice, three times.

…

When Kinessa woke the first thing she noticed was warmth. She was warm. That could only mean one thing: London was home. There was an arm wrapped around her waist and a leg flung over both of hers. She tried wriggle out when she remembered they had people staying with them, but he wouldn't have any of it.

"Nuh-uh," He growled and she felt the vibrations of it through her back. "Stayin' right here, luv, keepin' me warm." His chest rumbled when he spoke and she loved it.

"Babe, your core body temperature is a constant 105 degrees, you don't need me to keep you warm."

"Want you to, though." She laughed and got out of bed, stretching. She spotted the shirt she'd gone to be in last night on the floor and smiled. The alarm clock said 7:00 am, so she stood and shut the blinds before it could get any lighter. London's wolf-eyes were sensitive.

Kinessa dressed in sweats, a t-shirt and a pair of opera gloves. Normally, she would forgo them completely: all of Larmes du Soleil knew about her mutation and avoided skin on skin contact, but their guests didn't, so for safety's sake she covered up. Killing X-men with a touch wouldn't be good for business…

Downstairs, she met Rogue in the kitchen and they had cereal for breakfast.

"I would make pancakes," she said, "but we've been gone for eight weeks, so there's no perishable food except milk. I have to go grocery shopping." Rogue nodded and smiled.

"Where have y'all been?"

"I was in Russia, London was in the UK. Business, you know?"

"Do you not work together?"

"We do a lot of the time, but sometimes it just isn't necessary." She watched Rogue eat. "Do you wear gloves because of your mutation?" The girl retreated into herself and didn't say a word. "It's okay. I understand."

"No you don't. Nobody does…" Kinessa just smiled.

"I can't touch anyone either - except London. He heals fast enough that I don't kill him." Rogue's eyes widened. "Yeah, I electrocute people. I kinda have it under control, but not always. It slips sometimes and just one slip could kill. I don't usually wear gloves, people wise up quick, but your people don't know, so: protection it is." She wiggled gloved fingers.

"Wow… You have control. How?"

"When I found out I could touch London, he just let me keep doing it until I figured out how it worked." She shrugged. "After that it was easy."

"Yeah, well, I can't find anyone like that."

"I was thirty-six when I met him." Rogue's brows shot up again. "Yeah, I'm older than I look." She winked. "You never know. Someone might come along, right?"

"Right…"

Eventually, Kitty and Jubilee came down too and they all chatted at the table till there was a knock on the door. Johnny, Bobby and Piotr were invited in and joined the conversation quickly.

At eight thirty, London dragged his massive body into the kitchen, wearing just sweatpants - even his feet here bare. He had his eyes shut tight. Kinessa immediately grabbed his glasses from the counter and handed them to him. He slipped them on and stared at them all.

"If I'd known you were all comin', I'd have baked a bloody cake!" He was glaring, but one couldn't really tell behind the shades. "It half eight in the morning! Can't a bloke get some sleep?" Kinessa held back a laugh, seeing the wide eyes of the girls and the terror on the boy's faces. She imagined London looked pretty scary to them. When no one answered him he growled and mooched over to the coffee machine. When his back turned to them, she heard all six of the teens gasp.

On his back, across the top of his shoulder blades was her name. It had been carved into his skin as part of a traditional shapeshifter mating ritual. They were funny like that, shapeshifters; it was all about blood and forever. Because of his healing factor, they had needed to use a red-hot blade and rub salt in the wound. She remembered every cut. He bore it with pride though. It was a symbol of their love. Yeah, they were funny like that.

Then of course, there were his tattoos. Each one about the size of her palm, they sat in a line below her name. On the far left was a four-pointed crown within a circle, a symbol for his pack: The Four-Pointed Crown Toldare. When a child went through their first change in the pack, they were given this tattoo. To the right of that was a dagger within another circle, it was the symbol of a pack soldier, a male tasked with being a member of the force that protected the pack. Third was a circle with a flame inside, they symbol or a pack's enforcer: someone who did the dirty work for the leader. Fourth was a circle within a circle: the symbol for the Wolf-King's bodyguard, and last was a circle with a square, the symbol for second in command of a wolf pack.

When he turned back around, Kinessa could just see the tattoo on the inside of his forearm. _Enim__pack, Enim__sanguinem, Enim__terra, Enim__libertatem_. For pack, For blood, for land, for freedom. It was another tattoo given to pack soldiers.

His shaded eyes met hers and she gave him a _behave _look. He just shrugged and sipped his coffee.

"So who are you all, anyways?" He grumbled. The three boys introduced themselves and he snickered. "Bobby and Johnny? That's so _original_!" They scowled. "Piotr's a nice name though." He probably would have kept going I there hadn't been another knock at the door. He grumbled and swore and Kinessa had to hide another smile and he marched to the door.

He came back with Logan following close behind and giving his scars and tattoos a doubtful look.

"Good morning, Logan." Kinessa greeted.

"Why's he in such a shitty mood?" London growled at him.

"He's nocturnal." She replied.

"And jet-lagged. Don't forget jet-lagged!" London added.

"Jet-lagged too."

"Huh." Logan grunted. "He treating you kids well?" Kinessa tried hard not to tense. It wasn't very nice of the Wolverine to say that, in front of them both. London wasn't so good at keeping his mouth shut.

"Oh, sod you! This is my bloody house!" Logan growled, and London growled louder. Time to intervene.

"Okay, boys, enough. Put some ice on it, or I will." She put a hand on London's chest and he backed down, Logan just laughed at him.

"She take both your balls, kiddo, or just one." London ignored him. "You're completely pussy-whipped, aren't you?" London ignored him more. "You not gonna say anything?"

"I was trying really hard not to make a dig about how at least I've got someone to put me on a leash and I'm not just roaming around like a lost little puppy… but whatever, each to his own, right mate?"

"English dick."

"Canadian wanker."

"Tattooed moron."

"Cigar-chewing twat!"

"Boys, _enough_." Kinessa whipped of her gloves and gave them both a light shock. Logan jumped back and yelped, London who was more used to it, just tensed. "What do you want, Logan?"

"I was just making sure the girls were still alive! What the hell did you do, anyway?" He rubbed his chest.

"The girls are alive. You can go now." London didn't wait for her to tell him, he just grabbed a manila envelope from the counter were he'd put it last night, gave her a quick kiss and walked out, shirtless and barefoot.

…

Cardinal looked over the top of her glasses at London. He was shirtless and barefoot in her office, with his feet up on her desk and shades hiding his eyes. He'd just delivered his after-action report.

"There's more to this, isn't there?" She leaned back and waited for him to talk. If he hadn't wanted to discuss it, he would have just slipped it in her inbox and left. As it was, he was fidgeting. About five minutes after coming in, he'd given up pretending to be nonchalant.

"Can you hit the lights, please?" Oh, he was being polite… a rarity. She flicked the switch under her desk and the lights dimmed. Her vision wasn't as good as his, so they had to make do with a little. "Cheers." He leaned forwards and took off his glasses. Even though she'd known (and lived with) London for nine whole years, she'd only seen his eyes a handful of times, and each time they took her breath away. Wolf-eyes… beautiful.

"Tell me what happened." He rested his elbows on her carved wooden desk and sighed. London was... huge. Really huge. Not as big as Haven, but way bigger than she was. He was build like a wrestler but moved like a dancer - quick, lithe, balanced. For someone with such a big body he was remarkably graceful – but not now. Now his shoulders were slumped and he was doing his fallen-mountain impression.

"The job I was just on, it wasn't what they said it was."

"You were supposed to infiltrate a secure facility and recover a mutant named…" she peeked in the file, "Flash."

"Yeah, they said the facility was a training center for mutant soldiers."

"But it wasn't?"

"You know what happened to Illyria, in the past, right? Cause I don't wanna be - "

"I am privy to the information."

"Well, it was one of _those _places." She flinched, she had to. Slave compounds. "I found the Flash kid, to leave we had to go past a garbage chute… There was, ahh, a kid - little lad, only about twelve. He… he asked me to help him. Asked me to save him." He put his glasses on, then slipped them back off again. "But it was too late, they'd noticed Flash was gone, tripped the alarm. They was coming, and it was then or I was buggered. I grabbed Flash, started runnin' but this lad is screaming for me to help him. Said if I didn't they'd just put him back in the ring. He'd just have to keep fighting... said if I didn't help him, they'd… well, they'd do bad stuff." He trailed off and looked out at the dark, overcast sky.

"London, what happened?" He rubbed his hands together.

"You mind if I smoke?" She raised both eyebrows, stood, cracked a window and sat back down.

"Just this once." She had no idea where he pulled a cigarette from, but he leaned forwards, she snapped her fingers, created a flame and lit it for him.

"Cheers, pet."

"What happened? You're deflecting…" There was no humor in his chuckle.

"So this lad, he's screaming about how I've got to take him with me. Bullets is flying by now, you know? Course I'm wrapped around Flash, keeping him as safe as I can – hurt like a bitch – but I couldn't help the other kid. He got hit, the lad I mean, and they came to drag him away but he keeps screaming. I looked back at Flash, he's got cuts and bruises all over him, really fucked up." He motioned at his own face, as if maybe she would see it. "So I did the only thing I could think of. I pulled my gun and I shot him. Right between the eyes." The hand that led his cigarette tapped his forehead. "He didn't feel a thing. There one sec, gone the next."

"London…"

"I killed a boy, Cardinal, a child. Killin' kids… it's against my code of ethics, its against pack law – you don't kill that which cannot protect itself from you, especially not…" she could have sworn she saw the shine of tears in his eyes. "… especially not children."

"Have you come to ask me how to make this better?"

"I don't know…"

"May I make a suggestion?"

"Yeah, luv, knock yo'self out." He waved.

"Go and see Illyria. Ask her what she would have felt in that child's position." He considered this for moment, then nodded.

"Yeah. Also, I put the 20 grand in the safe, downstairs."

"Thank you." He stood, took a drag and put his shades back on. She watched him walk out and shut the door behind him.

…

London had the ability to walk without making a sound. His nature as a shapeshifter helped, but it was mostly training, skill. Not now though, as he walked out he made as much sound as he wanted and he enjoyed it. This was his home, he was safe here. There was no one waiting for him around the corner, there was nothing to fear.

He headed up to the flat, collected the hold-all he'd come in with the night before then made his way to the armory. After keying in his security code for Caroline, he set his bag on the table and unpacked his equipment.

Two 9mm berretta 92 fs autoloaders, with plenty of ammo, two k-bar army knives, a garrote wire, a long distance night vision scope, a pair of binoculars, a Barret m82 long rang, high powered rifle, 50 caliber incendiary rounds for that, suppressors for his 9mms and a katana. After that came his set of lock picks, high tech pass key simulators, laser pointers, shape charges, detonators, blasting caps, and a whole bunch of other fun toys.

Step by step, he did everything the army had trained him to do. He cleaned, checked, re checked, packed and secured all his equipment. He made sure _everything was perfect_ then got to work fixing the stuff that wasn't. One of the things he'd learned in life was 'if you take care of your equipment, it takes care of you.'

By the time he was done it was almost 12, but he wasn't feeling up to visiting all the kiddies that invaded his _personal _space. He didn't mind the girlies, but it was in his nature to be pissed off by the males. Males were a threat, a threat that was either dominated or destroyed. Since he wasn't allowed to do either of those, he was just going to stay away. But he did want to see Kinessa…

Almost as if the world read his mind, she walked through the Armory's electric doors.

"You been here all morning?" He'd been working in the dark, so as a courtesy to her he put on his shades and switched on the lights. She switched them back off. "You don't have to do that and you know it." She hopped up on the work bench he'd just cleared his things from and took the cleaning rag from his hands.

"Just thought you might like to see…"

"There's nothing to see. No one's gonna jump out an get me, and even if they do – you're protection enough…" He put his arms around her and held on tight. Making love to her was all well and good (actually it was all well and fucking awesome) but he did like to just hold her sometimes.

"London?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay?" Fuck. Empath. Fuck. Fuckeddy fuck.

"No, but I will be."

"Did you talk to someone?" And right there, was one reason he loved her. She didn't expect him to talk to her – it only mattered that he dealt with it, in his own way.

"Mentioned it to Cardinal. Got some questions for Blue, but I'll be fine. Promise." She was warm beneath his touch and the electric charge across her skin was humming against his. He loved it. She just leaned her head on his shoulder and let him hold her. She was humoring him and he knew it, but it just made him love her all the more. The softness of her comforted him, the sensation of being home, of being cleansed by her presence made him feel more whole. "I did a bad thing, K. Would you forgive me if I told you?"

"That's not important. The important thing is whether or not you would forgive yourself." She pulled away and tilted he head to the side, he saw the gesture for what it was: a huge display of trust. In his society, to bear your throat to another was to give them the chance to take your life but to trust that they wouldn't. He kissed her café-au-lait skin and savored it. "I won't lie to you, London. You're an animal." She looked him straight in the eye. "You are, you're a wild thing, you don't think like the rest of us, you see things differently and you react accordingly. But you're _my _animal. You're mine, and that's what matters."

She loved his eyes, loved them so much. They were terrifying, beautiful, captivating and a pair in a million. Black pupils surrounded by irises so light-blue they were almost white, but kept in check by a ring of navy blue. They were eyes like diamonds, like ice, like stars. He had eyes like the moon and she loved them.

"Yours." He nodded and she felt the uncertainty, the confusion and the regret all in emotional grid fade into calm. "Yeah, yours." When he kissed her she felt the brush of his five o'clock shadow on her chin and the power of his body beneath her fingertips, but she was not afraid.

If there was one thing she was certain of it was that London would never hurt her. The man in him loved her, and the animal was bound to her. Both sides had given everything they had over to her. Handed her the keys to their very lives. Even if she woke up unable to help herself one day, her lover would cross the world to find her.

She was the beauty to his beast, and neither of them minded much.


	4. Preparation is Key

**A/N: From now on out, the story gets a little more grown up. If you have any problems with the rating, please let me know – I'm not very familiar with this system and I'm most definitely not looking to offend anyone. Thank you very much, please Read and Review.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own X-men or anything relating to Marvel comics. All this is simply for the sake of entertainment.**

**CHAPTER FOUR:**_ Preparation is key_

When Storm had awoken, there had been so sign of Illyria, the bed had been un-slept in and nothing had changed since the night before. Strange… Downstairs, Storm set about exploring the flat while the kettle boiled.

The wall with the cubbyholes was a whole two stories tall (it even had its own ladder on wheels, like a library), but Storm decided to start simple. Beside the front door was a side table with a bowl that had several sets of keys in it, and two photographs. The first was of Felix; the second was of that man Storm had assumed was called 'Wade'. She couldn't help herself; she picked up the picture of Felix and took a closer look.

His hair was shorter then, cut just above his ears and he was standing on the edge of a mountain. That wasn't what caught her eye though, no. In this picture, Felix had _wings_ – honest to God, wings. They were a beautiful brown-red that matched his skin perfectly and they were spread out, at least six foot long each, like an angel's. He wasn't smiling though, and looking closer she saw there was dirt on his cheeks and down his bare arms. His face was bruised and the glint in his eyes was one of pain, not pleasure. Maybe an angry avenging angel then?

"Like it?" She yelped and jumped a foot in the air, dropping the photograph. He caught it before it hit the ground and set it back where it belonged. When Storm's eyes met his, she shivered. They weren't brown, they were black and that frightened her.

"Why – why do you have wings?" His grin was a little too self-satisfied for her taste.

"I guess I'm just heaven sent." He prowled further into the house. That was the only word she could think to use: prowled. His shoulders rolled gracefully and he moved lightly, stepping on the balls of his feet, but there was no way she would ever mistake him for harmless, no, the strength she could see in his body betrayed him. He was _vibrating_ with energy, as if he would implode should he stop moving. A restless animal… "Does Snowflake have any food in this place?" He started opening cupboards, drawers, the fridge.

"Yes, she said there was enough to make breakfast."

"You had breakfast?"

"I was planning on it." He just grunted and started cracking eggs into a bowl. "W-what are you doing?" She hated her voice for quivering, damn voice!

"There're kids in my apartment." As if that explained it all.

"But you have a daughter of your own!"

"Yeah, but Ash is nice, and she's mine, and I like her." He licked spilled milk off his fingers. "The others smell, talk too much, have no appreciation for fine art, posture more than I enjoy and don't understand a man's need for personal space." The pancake mix sizzled as it hit the pan. "So I'm here to find some peace and quiet, and cook us breakfast, unless you're vegan – in which case we're fucked."

"I'm not a vegan." In the end, the pancakes tasted almost as good as he looked.

"So you control the weather, huh?" He sat opposite her at Illyria's kitchen table.

"Yeah." She looked at her food then back at him. "Can I… Can I ask about the wings?"

"Sure, ask away." His grin was heart stopping. Everything about him was heart stopping.

"Why the wings?" He was mocking her, and she knew it.

"I'm a shapeshifter. I turn into a tiger, with wings. But like a lot of powerful shifters, I can choose to only change some part of me: hands, head, wings." He shrugged and somehow it was graceful. "I like my wings, they can be a great help." God, he even looked good when he _chewed_. She seriously had to stop appreciating him, or at least tone it down!

"So what do you look like… as a tiger?" He surveyed the room around them.

"Where did she put it?" He stood, "One sec." And went rooting around in a cupboard. "Ah, bingo." He pulled out a huge painting and carried it over effortlessly. When he turned it to face her, she caught her breath. It was an oil painting of a huge tiger, the size of a pony, with beautiful, elegant wings. Its stripes were black but its fur was the same rusty red shade as his wings had been in the picture. His eyes were big and golden brown and the fangs his mouth sported must have been as long as her forefinger.

"Wow…" Even though it was a painting, she was completely captivated by the way his fur caught the light and his paws rested on the... wait, was that the Chrysler Building? "When was that?"

"This, oh it hasn't happened yet." He put the painting back where he found it.

"What do you mean it hasn't happened yet?" he just shrugged.

"Sherrylin-Bliss painted it. She saw it in the future or something." He waved away her questions. "I don't know for sure how it works, you'd have to ask Haven." She could have continued to quiz him, but the computer screen in the wall spoke up, Victor's voice coming through clearly.

"_Everyone report to the Bridge in five. Professor Xavier may take the elevator, Kinessa go show him the way, everyone else: take the stairs!_"

"Looks like we're gonna have to cut our date short, Ms. Munroe." She blinked up at him.

"Date?"

"It's been a pleasure. I haven't courted a beautiful woman in a long time." He stood and helped her from her chair, but there was a playful shine to his eyes.

"I find that hard to believe, Reverend." She played along. "I'm sure beautiful women set eyes on you and never leave again!" If she hadn't been so focused, Storm might have missed the flash of sadness in his face. Sad, why would he be sad? Then it occurred to her, no one had mentioned Aisling's mother. "Felix, may I ask you a personal question?" Her hand was still in his and his hold tightened a fraction.

"Shoot."

"Where," She hesitated, maybe this wasn't the best idea… "Where is Aisling's mother?" His hold tightened again, as if he were hiding a flinch.

"Gone." Then he dropped her hand and turned away. "You might as well come with me, you don't know where the bridge is."

Storm's cheeks flamed. She knew that was a bad idea! Dammit! She was so caught up in her internal telling off that she didn't realise he'd stopped before opening the door.

"Aisling's mother…" His voice was tight, but other than that, toneless – the way people spoke when they related a traumatic event while trying not to think about it. "Died when Aisling was two." then he opened the door and walked out without another word.

Storm didn't know what to say. What _do _you say to an admission like that?

…

The Bridge turned out to be Larmes du Soleil's equivalent of the War Room, only bigger. There were high tech monitors, a round conference desk, plenty of space to pace like a crazy person and lots of glass and brushed steel. By the time Storm and Felix entered, everyone (except Aisling and the elusive Sherrylin-Bliss) was assembled and seated. He pulled out a chair for her and she thanked him with a smile. There were some raised eyebrows, namely Logan and the Professor, but otherwise it was accepted as perfectly normal. Victor began the meeting without any frill.

"Felix, list of stuff." He handed The Reverend two sheets of paper. Felix looked it over quickly. "Can you get it?" The Native American threw his head back and laughed.

"Can I get it? I'm hurt, boss man…" Victor just rolled his eyes. "Let me make a call." He pressed a button on one of the screens. "Caroline, baby, put me through to Rich, please, and email this to him?" A pause, then the rings on a phone, a few seconds passed and he call was picked up.

"_Richmond._"

"Its me, I got a list for you that's just been emailed." Another pause.

"_Got it._"

"Can you find all that?"

"_Eight hours, tops._"

"Thanks, Rich."

"_Hold up, Rev. There was a problem down at Caliente this morning._"

"What kinda problem?"

"_Rachel's man's been beatin' on her again._" Rich sighed and Felix swore a blue streak.

"Make sure his gives her enough cash to tide her over for the hours she'll miss with us, then have him dealt with."

"_Yes, sir._"

"And, Rich?"

"_Yes, sir?_"

"Make it messy, I want him to understand that _no one_ touches my girls."

"_A finger, sir?_"

"Make it two, three if he complains."

"_Yes, sir. Have a nice day, sir._"

"Tell your daughter happy anniversary, Rich." Then he hung up. When he faced the room again, his eyes were full of fury. "Fucking bastard, son of a bitch!" He would have continued, but Illyria put a hand on his arm.

"Easy, big man. Think now, kill later." Felix nodded to Victor.

"My apologies. It seems abusive boyfriends have no respect for anyone else's schedule." It was Rogue who spoke next, because everyone else was too shocked to say a word.

"Hang on. A whore just got beat up bah her boyfriend, so you're gonna cut off two of his fingers – three if he complains – and no one's gonna say anythang?" He blinked at her in confusion.

"What's to say?"

"You can't just do that!" He looked her up and down quickly, sizing her up.

"Yeah, little girl, I can. Rachel's a good lady; she just made a few wrong choices. And her taste in men is fucking _despicable_. Just because she has sex for money doesn't mean she's any less that you are, or that it's okay for her lover to beat her. That's not okay for anyone!" He ran a hand over his face. "I'm not justifying my actions: maiming is wrong. But that's my job, for better or for worse. I'm her pimp – as long as she works for me, she's my responsibility. Get over it." Then he turned to Victor. "You heard Rich, eight hours."

"Good. Now, Professor, I took the liberty of coming up with a plan…" The rest of the meeting was spent discussing the details of the X-mansion's new security system. It was agreed that work would start after 1pm that afternoon, beginning with Haven putting up some kind of barrier, and ending two weeks from that day with Kinessa bringing all circuits online.

Storm volunteered to go and supervise that first day before she realised Felix would be coming too. She made her way to the garage with a knot on her stomach. The meeting had shown her a tiny glimpse of who Felix could be: cutting off people's _fingers_? And she wasn't sure she wanted to be in a car with him. When she arrived, he was nowhere to be seen, but Haven was leaning his massive body against a dark green Bentley Continental.

"We're going in a Bentley?" Haven just nodded.

"I've always had style, Ms. Munroe, just some days I'm more extravagant than others, please, take a seat." Felix had appeared behind her and opened the passenger door.

"Doesn't Haven want to…"

"A Lady always goes in the front if she wants to, Storm. Besides, you're supposed to be supervising. Supervisors ride shotgun." Was all Haven said before he hopped in the back.

By the time they reached the X-mansion, it was drizzling, and again she was surprised when Felix got out first, with an umbrella, opened her door and gave it to her. He didn't demand she change the weather, he didn't ask her to stop the course of nature, he just handed her an umbrella. Goddamn, she couldn't figure him out.

"You can do this in the rain, my man?" Again, Haven just gave a nod in return. "Are you afraid of lions Ms. Munroe?" She blinked at him.

"I – I don't know. Why?"

"No worries."

"Okay, well I brought my spare key, so…"

"We won't need it," Haven announced. Then right there, in the rain, he lifted his hands, closed his eyes and the very air began to shimmer.

"What's he doing?" She gaped. Without realising, she'd clung to Felix's arm.

"He's collecting energy: kinetic from the air, chemical from the plants, light from the sun, sound from the rain… To make it his own, then build a barrier around the whole mansion."

"What for?"

"Its way more effective than bullet proof glass…" He couldn't keep explaining, because right then Haven's body began to glow. Literally, he was pulsing with light. She noticed that Felix subtly put himself in front of her, and she would have been pissed, but she had no idea what she was dealing with.

Haven exploded. That was the only word she could use! It was as if he'd just flung himself out all over the mansion, covering it, blanketing it, protecting it. What was left in his place took her breath away.

A huge, golden lion stood before her. He was the size of a small horse (bigger than lions should be, she thought) and his mane was a magnificent, dark brown. Felix pushed in front of her again and began to speak to the lion.

"Haven, my man, can you hear me?" The lion tilted its head and she noticed he had wings too, like Felix, tucked close to his back. "Rex, buddy, come on…" The lion dipped its head, and Felix took that as an invitation. He approached, and put out a hand, which the lion – Haven – sniffed at. "Come closer, Ororo, so he knows who you are…"

"I'm not coming closer." Her heart was beating a mile a minute and she could feel her eyes being wider than they should be.

"He can smell your fear. Hell, _I _can smell your fear. You need to come closer, show him that you won't run."

"Why can't I – why can't I run?"

"Ever seen a kitten chase a yarn ball?"

"Is that Haven, in there?"

"Not exactly. It's a different side of Haven, one that thinks differently. Come on." He walked toward her, took her hand, put one arm around her waist, and slowly guided her to the huge animal. Haven, or not-so-Haven, was just watching. There was no expression in his eyes, no recognition. She was unimportant to him: how this played out was up to her, they could be friends or he could eat her, either way he didn't care.

"Oh my Goddess…" A tear fell down her cheek, but when Felix's hand reached under her shirt and rested warmly on the small of her back, she calmed. She could feel the power in his body, feel that he could (and would) protect her, and for just a moment she let herself believe this would all be all right.

When she got as close to Haven as she dare, Felix lifted her hand and put it palm up in front of those big amber eyes.

"Rex, my man, this is Ororo. She ain't gon' hurt ya, she ain't gon' hurt Sherrylin. We're good." Haven padded forward on paws as big as her face and sniffed at her hand. He chuffed and growled a little, but it wasn't threatening, so a tiny bit of tension left her body. "You gonna fly home, buddy?" Haven was already walking away, having lost interest in them both. She watched, transfixed, as his wings unfurled. He turned to face them and chuffed again before launching himself into the air and gliding away.

"Oh my Goddess…" The tears were falling for real now, and Storm didn't even care. That was hands down one the most frightening things she'd ever seen.

"It's okay, baby, it's okay." He wrapped his arms around her and she briefly registered that he was warmer than most people. The rain started pouring harder, but she was too out of sorts to care. The lighting came, then the thunder and Felix ushered her into the Bentley. The engine started with a purr and as soon as he had the wonderful car in gear, he took her hand.

The next trip to the X-mansion would involve more people. Illyria was coming to take a look at the roof, she would be setting up some fancy kind of camera. Storm volunteered to go again and so did Rogue and Bobby. Illyria let Strom ride shotgun for no particular reason and the two youngest mutants stayed very, very quiet next to the telepath in the back.

The sun was setting quickly, but Illyria was still working hard. Rogue and Bobby had already gotten the things from their room's that they'd actually come for (it wasn't like they wanted to _help_) and Felix was quietly assisting Blue. Storm just watched.

It was Illyria whose head snapped up first.

"You hear that?" she asked her partner. He looked up and scanned the sky.

"Chopper." H dropped what he was holding and gave orders. "Storm, give us some cloud cover. Kiddies, get under something, if they've got guns don't fight back, just hide! Storm, that means you as well, no fighting, just hiding." He looked at Illyria. "You packing?" She laughed.

"Am I ever not?" He nodded and pulled out his own weapon. They took up positions on the roof and waited.

"How many?" Storm heard him ask.

"Twenty-four. A whole goddamn platoon!" She cursed.

"How much ammo you got?"

"For my .45, I'm packing three clips, for my 9mm, three as well. I'm good. You?"

"I'll be fine."

"Felix! How many?"

"Three for a nine mil." She just nodded. The chopper was coming closer. They both screwed sound suppressors on. "Show time." Felix said, then they split up.

When the helicopter landed on the roof, and the soldiers quietly spilled out, Storm had trouble taking a full breath. She couldn't see Rogue, or Bobby. They had all hidden separately. She couldn't spot Felix, or Illyria. Breathe, Storm, breathe… The soldiers reached the door on the roof, and then the first one dropped, bleeding from his throat. The gunfire exploded, but the soldiers kept dropping. Storm half thought it would be okay, until she heard Rogue scream.


	5. Blue Thunder

**A/N: This Chapter has several older-people themed parts. Firstly there's violence, suggestions about rape, a lot of language and sex. If you have a problem with the rating, please let me know and I WILL CHANGE IT. So far, no one has complained.**

**DISCLAIMED: I do not own Marvel Comics or any of its characters (X-men, Deadpool) I do however own all the other characters, so please ASK before you use them!**

Illyria threw herself off the roof and spread her wings, catching Rogue mid air by the back of her neck. She knew the skin there was deadly, but there was fuck all she could do. Her other hand was occupied with emptying rounds into the soldier firing down at them. She just had time to haul ass back onto the roof before she felt herself slipping away. Her eyes rolled back in her head and the world went night-night.

Rogue screamed as memories not her own flew in and out of her mind. She only held on for a few seconds before she was swallowed by the life of Illyria Payne.

Illyria came awake screaming. Where was she? Where was Wade? Why wasn't Wade here?

"Wade? _Wade?_" She looked around frantically. She was in a medical room, oh fuck, oh fuck, no more medical rooms! "_FELIX!"_ She screamed until her throat was raw. Then Logan came barrelling in the door.

"Marie! Marie?" He stopped short when he noticed the way she looked at him.

"Get away from me, Jimmy Logan." She got off the bed, her eyes darting carefully around the room, searching for a weapon. "I told you if you ever came looking for blood again, I'd give it to you." Her hand closed on the pole of her IV.

"Marie, its Logan…" Just then Felix ran in and suddenly a weight lifted from Illyria's shoulders.

"Felix." She ran towards him, but he backed away from her, his hands in the air.

"You're not Illyria. You're Rogue." He said, and she looked down at herself. No, that couldn't be right. She was missing her tattoos… Where were they? Where was…

"Where's Wade? Where are my tats? Felix what's going on? Where's Wade, he was just here! He was just with me!" Felix's eyes went wide.

"Holy fuck…" He muttered. Logan started yelling question but Felix shut him up with a glare.

"What day is it, Felix?"

"Its December the 19th. You went out like a light two days ago. Wade isn't here, its not that time of the year yet…" His words brought Rogue back to herself like an electric shock.

"Logan… What happened to me?" He would have answered, but Cardinal swooped in, followed by Kinessa and Bobby. Bobby ran to her immediately, but Felix held him back.

"If she's got pieces of Blue in there, she'll gut you like a fish."

"Why?" He tried to squirm away, but the Reverend held fast.

"Because when Illyria panics, she kills everything, so I suggest you back off before I feed you to her." He pretty much threw Bobby out of the room and into London, who hauled his ass back up the stairs.

Cardinal took a long hard look at everything, then began to speak.

"Felix, you may remain here because out of everyone you know Illyria best, Mr. Logan I trust the same can be said for yourself and Rogue?" Logan nodded. "Kinessa will stay because as an empath, she could come in handy." Her grey eyes locked on Rogue. "What is your name?"

"Rogue. My name is Rogue."

"Are you sure?"

"No…?"

"Can you read my mind, Rogue?" Rogue blinked, and then realised she could read everyone's minds. Their voices where white noise in the back of her head. That made a quiet voice inside her sigh contentedly.

"Yeah. Yeah I can. That makes me happy, why?" Cardinal nodded and suddenly some of the voices disappeared. She couldn't hear any of Larmes du Soleil, but she had no idea how to fix it. Felix answered her question.

"Illyria hates cages, she likes to know her powers work. We've all put up our shields, so you shouldn't be able to hear us now." That seemed to ring true with the voice in her head, so she shrugged.

"And now? Are the voices better?"

"I can still hear Professor Xavier's people…" Cardinal nodded again.

"Okay, listen to me. You absorbed Illyria. It was accident. We're hoping now that you're awake, she'll begin to recover." Rogue nodded, and Felix whispered something to Cardinal. Rogue was surprised she heard it.

"We need to call Wade, he's gonna go psycho if he finds out from someone else."

"No." Rogue said. "If you call Wade, he won't have his head on straight, and you know what he's like…"

"Do I, Rogue? What is he like?" But Rogue couldn't remember. It was on the tip of her tongue, on the edge of her thoughts… Why couldn't she remember? Who was Wade anyway? "That's my girl you put in the hospital. _My_ girl. And I'll be damned if Wade isn't here for this. I might not always like the cock-sucker, but he cares about her."

"Who does?" She asked, "Who's Wade?" She looked around at everyone's faces. They were all surprised, or worried, the only mind she could read was Logan's, and that was just a confused jumble. She didn't speak brain language. "What's going on?"

"She's drifting in and out." Kinessa said. "I can't believe we didn't think of this before…" She put a hand over her face.

"Think of what?" Felix asked.

"Illyria's a powerful telepath, right?"

"One of the best, sure."

"She knew what she was doing, on that roof. She knew what touching Rogue's skin would do, right?" Felix nodded slowly, still not seeing where this was going. "So maybe she locked some things away. Pieces of herself, so Rogue could absorb them but not reach them. Get what I mean? Her powers – mind reading, shifting and the like – Rogue absorbed, Illyria couldn't turn them off, but she could hide her memories." She took a step forward. "Can I try something?"

"By all means." Cardinal waved her forward, but Logan growled.

"No! You could kill her." Felix snarled at his comment.

"As opposed to Rogue who's as safe as houses? Fuck off, Wolverine." They would have continued had Kinessa not shocked them both lightly and slipped past before they could recover.

"Rogue, do you know who I am?"

"You're Kinessa."

"Do you know… when I quit smoking?" Rogue thought about it. It was right there… just outside her grasp… right there…

"No."

"Does the name Wade Winston Wilson mean anything at all to you." She felt that voice inside her head become more a feeling that a voice. It was one of warmth, one of care, of love. But the name meant nothing now.

"I… I don't… I don't know the name, but…"

"But it makes you feel something?"

"Yeah…" She pulled at the hospital gown she wore, ashamed of the tightness in her belly and the warm flush that Wade's name had brought on. Kinessa must have picked up on her feelings.

"It's okay. I know you're together with Bobby, but for right now, it's okay for you to feel however you do about Wade."

"However I do? What do you mean?"

"Well, to be honest, none of us really knows if Illyria and Wade are together or not…" She offered a lopsided smile. "Blue was always good at hiding what she felt, even with me." Rogue arched a brow.

"You guys never talked about him?"

"About Wade?" Kinessa chuckled. "Wade… no we never talked about him. Not in that sense anyway. Blue is very… private. Tell me, Rogue, can you speak any new languages?" Once again, Rogue had the answer on the tip of her tongue. Some strange words floated towards her, but they were gone before she could catch them. She shook her head and Kinessa nodded. "Illyria was fluent in about twelve languages, at last count, and she could get by in another six."

"Should I get the Professor?" Logan asked.

"What for?" Felix arched his brow.

"He can fix this…" He waved at Rogue.

"Fix what? Illyria kept her secrets, that's all."

"Yeah, but maybe it would be better for Rogue - "

"Fuck. That." A growl rumbled through the room and somehow Rogue recognised it for the protective gesture it was. "Rogue isn't the victim here. She'd be dead if it wasn't for _my _partner. The only reason I haven't taken her _Goddamn _head off is because maybe, just _maybe_ Illyria might come out of this." Kinessa wrapped a gloved hand around Felix's arm.

She pressed a button on the intercom.

"London, come down here and get Felix. Work out with him before he kills someone." Felix nodded his silent thanks before Kinessa turned to Logan. "Illyria hasn't given her consent and so the Professor will not be going anywhere near Rogue's (and therefore her) mind. Not that he would be able to get past the barriers if he did…" Rogue felt an alien sense of satisfaction at that and patted herself on the back for a job well done. The voice in her head spoke up again, with real words this time. _Fuck this shit. No one's going near my head._ Rogue just shrugged it off.

London arrived less than a minute later and took Felix away.

"I'm kinda hungry…" Rogue looked uneasily at Cardinal. "I don't wanna…"

"It's fine, dear, come with us." Kinessa offered her some clothes and a pair of gloves and they all left while Rogue changed. The whole time she was torn between reaching for the things she knew she should know and leaving Illyria's business alone.

When they got upstairs, Bobby gave her a hug, careful not tot ouch skin, but she stayed tense.

"Are you okay, Rogue?"

"Yeah, I'm right as fucking rain, Popsicle." She snapped, but when she realised what she'd said, she slapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh my God, Bobby, I'm so sorry!" He backed away from her.

"What's going on, Rogue?"

"I'm sorry, Illyria's in my head an I just... I just…" Kinessa was right there.

"It's okay." She didn't touch her though and for some reason that made Rogue grateful, once again, Kinessa must have noticed. "When she's stressed, she doesn't like touch." Kinessa led her through to the kitchen, where Jubilee and Kitty were both waiting. Before they went in, Kinessa pulled her aside. "You may well end up saying things you don't mean, or you don't understand. We tried to explain, but I don't think they quite got the drift…" Rogue just nodded, blinking away tears.

When she got inside, both Kitty and Jubilee tried to hug her, but she stayed rigid in their arms.

"Where is Felix?" Kinessa bit her lip before answering.

"He's going a few rounds with London. They're probably beating the living daylights out of each other." She tried for a joke, but it fell flat and for the first time Rogue realised the seriousness of the situation. Illyria was in a hospital bed. Kinessa's friend, Felix's partner - a member of their family, all because her life had been in danger.

"I'm so sorry…" She felt like crying, but something was keeping her back, some wall stood between her and tears.

"Illyria doesn't cry. I don't think I've ever seen her cry, but again, you'd have to ask Felix…"

"She and Felix are close?" Kinessa just nodded, before quickly turning away and busying herself with something else. When she turned back around, she had a bright smile of her face.

"Here. Black, no sugar." She handed Rogue a cup of coffee.

"I take cream and sugar…"

"Just try it." She did, and she almost kicked herself. What was she thinking; of course she drank her coffee this way… Except that she didn't - Illyria did. _You're stuck with me, Stripes. Until I get better, anyway._ This time Rogue listened to the voice in her head and took comfort from the reassurance.

"Rogue, are you even listening to me?" Kitty demanded. Rogue just blinked at her. "You weren't, were you?" She shook her head.

"Excuse me… I need… I need to…" And again, Kinessa was right there.

"You need to run?" Rogue just nodded. "Come on then." On their way upstairs they passed the library, and Rogue's enhanced senses picked up the sound of sobs. Curiosity got the best of her and she wondered in, ignoring Kinessa's warnings.

Aisling was sitting on one of the windowsills with her head between her knees and huge sobs rocking her body. Rogue tried to back out quietly, but Ash's head snapped up.

"What are you doing here?" She asked. Ash was a few months older than Rogue and with her shock of black curls and dark almond eyes, she was much more exotic.

"I'm sorry…"

"You're sorry? You're _sorry_?" she stood to her full height, an inch or so above Rogue and glared, with fat tears still rolling down her cheeks. "If she dies, my father will kill you and I will smile at your funeral. Do you understand?"

"I didn't... I didn't mean to."

"You've take away one of the most important people in my life. I will never forgive you. I get that it wasn't on purpose, I do. But neither are car accidents." Then she brushed past on footsteps so quiet even Rogue's new super-hearing didn't pick them up.

Eventually she made it up the stairs and changed into some running clothes. Kinessa said she wouldn't come because Rogue's body would now naturally be able to move much faster than hers. She would run alone because Felix was beating himself up, London was helping and Haven hardly ever left the house.

As she raced through the woods on the grounds she listened to her heartbeat and revelled in the wind rushing over he face. Rogue had never liked running, but now it made her feel free and she found she had the strangest urge to fly. Finally, she came to an outcropping of rock that overlooked the valley that the property dropped into. She stood at the edge and felt the after noon breeze across her face. She wasn't breathing very hard, either.

On a whim, she called out to the voice in her head.

- Are you there, Illyria?

_- Yeah, I'm here. What's up?_

_-_ What's going on?

_-_ _ I shut you out of all my memories, but I did a bang up job._

_- _You're doing pretty good so far…

_-_ _Nope, I only had what…? Four seconds? I could have done better._

_- _What happens now?

_-_ _ Fuck if I know… I guess I'll wake up at some point…_

Then Rogue literally felt her fade away, and along with it came a wave of sadness. Illyria missed her family, Rogue realised. She missed Felix, and London and Cardinal and all the others. She missed them, because she was trapped inside Rogue. She tried calling out again, but no one answered.

Rogue ran more, she ran until it was dark, and then thought of running some more. The part of her that was Illyria, dormant as it was, knew she could keep going – wanted to keep going – but Rogue just wanted to go home.

When she got in, Logan was waiting for her, but not in the way she expected.

"Why did you call me Jimmy Logan?" He demanded. Rogue just gave him wide eyes. "What does Illyria know about me?"

"Logan, I don't know. She's shutting me out and I can't see."

"Look harder, or maybe the Professor can…" Neither of them noticed Haven until he rumbled in.

"No fucking way, Canada. The Professor's not going near Illyria's mind."

"But she knows stuff!" Haven just shrugged. "Why didn't she tell me?"

"Did you ask?" He crossed his huge arms across his chest and managed to make Logan look small.

"Well, no… but."

"Then there you go, punk. If you don't ask, you don' get." Rogue took the opportunity to slip away, into the kitchen. Felix looked up from the counter. His eyes were emptier than she'd ever seen them - full of sadness, of longing.

"Hey." He said. She tried to smile back. "Hungry?" Rogue nodded, she'd forgotten to eat earlier, with everything going on. "Everyone else's already eaten." He pulled a plate out of the oven, took off the foil and slid it across to her. Roast beef with potatoes. He also slid her over a glass of water and an apple, which she did smile for. "Anything yet?"

"She misses you…" Rogue dared take a peak at him. His jaw was set in a hard line, and there was a fading bruise around his eye. He had a split lip. There was a five o'clock shadow on his chin and he looked like he hadn't slept in days. "You look like shit, partner." She winked without thinking and she practically heard his muscles tense. "I'm so sorry… It's just." He cut her off.

"It's fine, Illyria's an intense person, even when she tries not to be. She's always got to say her piece. No worries." He just went to the fridge and bit into his own apple.

Meanwhile, In Cardinal's office, The Professor was sitting in his wheelchair watching the redhead and Victor, who was perched quietly on the side of her desk. He hadn't said much.

"I would like to look inside her mind, to see if there is anything I can do for her." He watched carefully for their reactions. They looked at each other.

"Do?" Cardinal asked. "As Felix had already told you - "

"I don't believe Felix is in a fit condition to make these decisions."

"With all due respect, Professor, you know absolutely nothing about Felix. He keeps his head, always. His eye is on the ball, always. If their roles were reversed and it were Felix in that bed, I would agree that Illyria would be unfit to make big decisions. But Felix is perfectly capable. You also have no right to decide otherwise."

"I am trying to help her." Cardinal just gave him a cold smile.

"I don't believe you." She raised a hand before he could protest. "I think you're curious about how Illyria put up barriers around her psyche, preventing Rogue from full access. I think you want to know how they work and I think you want to test them. I think that when you came here, you thought Illyria was just a weak youngling who could forge weapon from her mind and now you realise you could be wrong. I think you want to know just how much she can do." The Professor blinked.

"Are you telepathic?" She laughed and the sound was like the ringing of silver bells. Still Victor just sat there.

"No, Professor, I am not. I just have lots of experience with manipulators, professors, and scientists." She stood and smoothed her pencil skirt. "A word of advice, before we go?"

"Please."

"Do not do this. The only reason your Rogue still lives is because this business deal included the protection of your people while they were in our home. I do not know the specifics of Tiger-Clan law, but I believe either Felix or Illyria's lover (whomever he may be) is owed a life debt. They have not collected, but I don't believe they will be quite so understanding should you try to touch Illyria's mind, whether its inside Rogue or not." She came around the desk and Victor silently followed. "Illyria has many secrets, Professor. She is privy to much information and she has many skeletons in her closet. She would not appreciate your violation of her privacy and she is the type to hold a grudge. If you cross that line, I can almost guarantee that she will take your life when she wakes." With that, she showed him out the door and shut it firmly behind him. He tried to reach her mind, but the barriers were up tight.

Inside the office, Cardinal's shoulders slumped.

"What if she doesn't wake up, Victor?" She looked into her husbands hazel eyes and took comfort in the strength she saw there.

"She will." He wrapped his arms around her and smoothed a hand through her hair. "I know that because Sherrylin has some paintings that have yet to come. Illyria is in them. She will wake up. The question is: when?"

Kinessa finally put Rogue to bed the Green Room, made sure the other girls were in their rooms and then went to hers. London was shrugging on a pair of sweatpants when she came in.

"London…" He came over to her and lifter her off her feet. When they were both settled on their bed he stroked her brown locks lovingly. "Oh, London…"

"I know, lover, I know." He kissed the top her head and held her as silent tears poured down her face.

"When is she going to wake up?"

"She will, pet, she will." There was nothing more he could say – no comforting words he could offer her, no oaths he could swear, nothing could make this better until Illyria opened those baby-blues of hers and punched someone. He flicked off the lights, removed his sunglasses and rocked her back and forth.

It was 3am when London heard Rogue screaming in her room. He rolled off the bed and dashed the Green Room to find the young teen bolt upright in bed, huddling beneath the covers. Before comforting her, he made sure to open all the blinds: All Illyria's long years in captivity had made her hate closed off rooms and he didn't doubt that knowing she could bolt if she chose to would make her feel better.

"Rogue, you okay?" He slowly approached the bed; taking in the girl's wide, tear filled eyes. "Can I come closer?" She just nodded. "Nightmare?"

"One of Illyria's."

"Gimme a sec, pet." He dashed back to his room as quietly as he could, grabbed a fur lined sheepskin jacket, a blanket and his smokes. By the time he'd returned, Rogue had calmed a little. "Come outside, chit, the space'll make you feel better." He handed her the jacket (even though she probably wouldn't need it – her body temperature would be as high as his now) and the blanket and opened the sliding door onto the patio. Rogue followed silently. When he lit a smoke, he handed her one too: Illyria had smoked for years. She took it without comment, as if it were natural. "Want to tell me about it?" She just looked away and replayed it over in her mind.

_Illyria walked into the ring and heard the heavy iron gate close behind her. She felt her powers come on line and braced herself for the fight. Across the dirty circle was a little boy, no more than fifteen, huddled away. The bell sounded and as much as she hated it, she began her reach for his mind._

_Studiously ignoring his fear and suffering she searched for his fighting style. He was young, this one would be easy. She took a moment to curse the souls of her captors for putting a small boy in the ring with someone as experienced a fighter as she, cursed them for bringing him here at all._

_Next, she searched for his mutation. Energy blasts, huh. Maybe this one wouldn't be so easy after all. She was dragged back into her own body by the cheering of the crowd. With very little energy, she formed a psychic sword and prepared herself. _

_The poor little kid was still huddled in the corner, young thing that he was. Fuck this shit, she should make this quick. With light easy steps she approached him. He looked up and his rich brown eyes were full of tears. She expected him to beg for his life. Beg for her not to hurt him, beg for help. Instead he just looked straight at her._

"_Make it quick." Then he stood. She knew she couldn't say this out loud in case the crowd heard, so she sent him a quick metal message._

"_I'll make it as quick and painless as I know how." Then she plunged the sword into his head. He gave a short scream before slumping unconscious to the ground. Good old brain-scrambler. _

_She knelt down before him, picked him up by his hair and twisted his head hearing his neck break with a resounding snap. Then he was gone. Just like that. The blip on her radar that had been his mind was just gone. He was no more. _

_They switched the power inhibitor back on before dragging his body out and dumping a new fighter back in. This one was bigger, more experienced. And to top it all, they'd given him a sword. Fuck. Fuckedy, fuck. This guy was out to win. _

_There was much more blood spilt in that round._

Rogue came back to herself when London snapped his fingers in front of her eyes. Taking a drag of her cigarette, she told him what she'd seen.

"Where was she? Why was she doing that?" London just looked out over the balcony, taking another drag.

"Blue was… Before I met her, this is, she was a slave. You seen her tats?" He motioned to his wrist and throat, and Rogue nodded. "They're slave tattoos. She was captured young, a kid I think, and first she was a uhh… she was a sex slave." He winced, as if maybe reconsidering telling her all this. She waited in silence and since Illyria hadn't told her to tell him to shut up, she decided that was best. "Then when her mutations kicked in, they turned her into a cage fighter. She used to fight to the death for sport." He sounded scornful, hating. It was the most emotion Rogue had ever heard in his voice.

"How did she escape?" She stubbed out her cigarette.

"You'd have to ask her that, pet. She never told yours truly. She don't talk much, does Blue. Plays her cards close to her chest and no mistake." It took Rogue a few extra seconds to realise what he was talking about – sometimes London's different ways of saying things were hard to understand.

They talked a little longer about unimportant things, then Rogue decided maybe trying to go to sleep was a good idea. London left the blinds open for her and she appreciated it.

_Rogue walked up the worn steps of the old townhouse, watching the street carefully. She was in London, near Park Lane, although she didn't know what she was doing there. She was in Illyria's body, going through all the motions Illyria had already done in the past, but not trying to. She unlocked the door with a key she found under the matt and pushed it open._

_ The house was spacious, for central London, and expensive – even Rogue could see that. She heard someone moving around in the kitchen and Illyria's body guided her that way. Try as she might, she couldn't change the route they were taking, or their actions. This must be Illyria's dream or memory of something, she mused, not mine. _

_ There was a man fiddling with a coffee pot, standing at 6"2, with 200 lbs of pure muscle, he looked pretty fucking scary. Rogue was freaking out. _

_ "Morning doll face, you're early." He drawled, without turning around. Illyria walked up, fixed the coffee pot then let the stranger wrap his arms around her. He captured her lips and even though Rogue had no control over this body, she still felt what it felt. And this felt good. _

_ She (well, Illyria) was the perfect height. Just short enough to fit beneath his chin, and tall enough not to stand on tiptoes. _

_ "You look good, Lily." She just smiled and nodded at the coffee pot._

_ "Coffee for Wade?" He shook his head and grinned._

_ "Nuh-uh, baby… Lily for Wade." He lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist before kissing him again. This time he slipped his tongue inside her mouth and she felt sparks run down her smile. He began walking out of the kitchen. _

_ When they reached the bedroom, he lay Rogue down on the bed and his brown eyes met her now-blue ones. _

_ "I missed you," he said, bending to kiss her throat. "I've been gone away too long." Another kiss. "I've seen too much." One more. "I'm all better now." Then he took her lips. He kissed her for a long time, enjoying the moment without a though of what would come later. She felt the shape and softness of his lips, the warmth of his hands pulling her hips close to his, slowly caressing her waist. She savoured the sensation, relishing the touch she never got to have, and the part of her that was Illyria knew that he loved the softness of her skin beneath his own hands. She knew how much Wade liked to touch her, knew how he craved it when she was gone – more than she craved his touch, for it was the sound of his voice that she missed. _

_ She let him play with her tongue and she played back, cupping his face in her hands, running her fingers through his soft brown hair, down his muscular arms, across his back, then towards the front. She opened his zipper to let his cargo pants fall open._

_ He came free into her hand, and the young, virginal Rogue inside Illyria's body blushed. She'd never seen a man naked before. It was almost as if it were written: they went slowly, giving Rogue time to guiltily savour it. _

_ He kept kissing her, until she pulled back from his lips, dragged her own across his jaw, behind his ear, to the soft, untouched skin there. Rogue got one of her rare glimpses into Illyria's mind: this was one of her favourite places on her lover's body. She covered it with little kisses, then followed a trail down his neck, stopping to remove his shirt (and he hers) before continuing to his clavicle, then his nipple, then a sweet spot on his left side. She flipped him over to lie on his back before continuing her journey._

_ When she finally reached his cock, she let it pass her by, hearing the soft sound he made. It was almost mewing, like a kitten. But Wade wasn't a kitten and the entity that was a combination of Rogue and Illyria knew that -knew it well. She took him in her mouth, just the head, and licked and sucked until he was lifting his hips off the silk bedcovers. _

_ She felt, rather than saw his balls pull up, his cock swell with every touch and she heard his heart race and skip beats. For a moment Rogue felt guilty about intruding on Illyria's private moment, but then he spoke._

_ "Please, Lily." His breath caught. "Please…" It was just a whisper, but it pulled a chord deep inside Rogue, which she decided must be the part of her which was Illyria, and she looked up._

_ He was propped up on his elbows, staring down at her with something she did not expect. Rogue had always thought men saw oral sex as just a way to degrade women, to dominate them, but the look she could see in Wade's eyes was one of love - of trust, of desire, of everything she'd always wanted a boy to look at her with. That's when she understood why they never had: she'd been looking at boys. And this, this beautiful body beneath hers, the emotions running through his eyes, the words he said: they were a man's. _

_ She felt her own hunger growing; she felt the empty space inside her body, inside her heart, her mind, and her soul that he needed to fill up. He reached his hand down, slipped off her sweats and her underwear and touched her just right, as if he knew exactly what to do. _

_ Again, Rogue felt herself blush. A man had never, _ever_, touched her like this. She would have worried that she didn't know what to do had she not been wearing Illyria's body. Another pang of guilt came, but it was quickly smothered in the pleasure she felt at his fingertips. He slipped a finger inside her and she sucked in a breath, surprised but just how aroused she was. _

_ He pulled her up until he had his back to the headboard and she was sitting just above his hips, with his knees at her back for support. He kissed her gently first, positioned himself and then did something that took her completely by surprise. _

_ "May I, Lily?" The question in his eyes was genuine, and Rogue took a second to wonder why he would ask permission. The part of her that was Illyria was grateful though, and Rogue got the impression that not everyone had been given permission._

_ "Yeah." She kissed him and joined them. She couldn't restrain a little hiss and Rogue watched in rapture as he shut his eyes and leaned his head back. His lips were parted and she darted forward to kiss them. She let out a little cry of what she could only describe as joy at having him this close to her again. She never wanted to let him go, and once again that line between who she was and who Illyria was got blurred. _

_ She didn't move for a while, she just wanted to feel his fullness, his heat, his need to be here – with her. Then as Illyria's body started rocking a little, both women felt their need build. Wade's eyes snapped open and searched for hers. She lifted her forehead from his shoulder, where she didn't remember laying it, and kissed his mouth, his cheeks, his neck, she kept kissing and in between each peck she silently thanked whatever god was out there for bringing him back to her – safe and whole – for giving her this incredible chance at love, at life, she thanked the heavens for this incredible man. In between her own prayers, she heard him muttering his own. _

_ Rogue pulled back, opened her eyes and locked her gaze with his, letting him fill her with a thousand sensations. His eyes were beautiful to her, with long, feminine lashes, all luscious and dark. The rich brown was fired up with desire, his pupils dilated. Fascinated, she'd stopped moving – but he hadn't forgotten why they were there._

_ He began the rocking this time, and it all became too much. Rogue began to panic as a feeling she didn't understand overwhelmed her. It wasn't much help when her body followed the sensation naturally. She clutched at his shoulders desperately, eyes wide with pleasure as he continued to move._

_ "Wade…" it was whisper –nothing more – but it was enough. Just the sound of his name pushed her over the edge. She shut her eyes as whimpered and her belly tightened. She couldn't move, she couldn't breathe, but he wasn't done yet. He lifted her, putting her gently on her back. She opened her legs voluntarily and let him slide back inside her and even though she thought she was spent, she felt her eyes snap open again. He spoke, then and Rogue was surprised. She didn't know men talked when they had sex._

_ "Look at you, Lily. Look at you." He ran one hand down her side, still pushing himself in and out of her, still making love to her. "My Lily, my beautiful Illyria." He kissed her throat and her collarbone, supporting himself with one hand while the other danced lightly over her skin. "Oh, Illyria, oh, fucking hell, look at you." She lifted her arms to rest her hands on his shoulders; he put his other hand down and thrust hard. Once, twice, three times and there was that sensation again – like she was exploding, like she would suddenly turn inside out._

_ "Wade!" He followed her this time, and she opened her eyes in time to catch the most beautiful sight she had ever seen._

_ His eyes were clamped shut, his mouth open, his whole body tense. "Ahh, Illyria, oh my God." The muscles in his neck stood out and he made a strangled sound deep in his throat before throwing his eyes open with a gasp. His voice was must softer this time. "Oh, my God." He laid his head on her shoulder for a second and she heard his hear beating a mile a minute. "Oh, my God." He finally rolled them both over, and Rogue found herself splayed across his chest and happy to be there._

When Rogue woke up, she rolled over expecting to bump into a broad, warm chest. When she didn't she felt a tug at her heart. Or Illyria did, before she completely shut down their connection. Rogue didn't remember much of her dream. Just locking gazes with brown eyes, exploding from the inside out and the name Lily being whispered like a prayer upon lips she'd never seen before.

It was quite late in the morning now so Rogue hurried downstairs. She couldn't say exactly why she insisted on dressing more for functionality than looks, but it must have been Illyria.

"Good morning, Rogue." Kinessa gave her a little smile and even though Rogue couldn't read her mind, the part of her that was Illyria saw the slumped line in her shoulders and the shadows in her eyes.

"Morning." Kitty and Jubilee both greeted her too, but she could only manage a smile for them. London came down soon after. He rumbled and flowed, the way he always did, and Rogue found herself reminded of the ocean. Unstoppable. He greeted her then went straight to Kinessa. He put his arms around her and gave her a gentle kiss. Even though his eyes were hidden behind his glasses, Rogue recognised the look on his face. He was comforting her, and she felt ashamed. Blood rushed to her face and she turned away quickly, running for the door and up a set of stairs. She heard people shouting behind her, but she kept heading up until she hit the fire escape door.

Rogue hadn't known how to get here, until Illyria told her. She was out in the morning, in the winter, in New York. Idiot. Then she realised she wasn't cold – must be the new body heat. She ran to the edge of the roof and looked down, taking deep, slow breaths.

Even with her super-hearing she didn't hear anyone behind her, but she smelled him.

"Petite, you okay?" She didn't look at him.

"I… yeah, I'm fine." When she did look at him, she realised that it didn't matter if she was okay. Remy's red on black eyes were sunk and tired. He hadn't shaved in days (not in a stylish way, more homeless) and his clothes were rumpled. "Oh, my God, are you okay?" She tried to walk closer to him, but he deftly slipped past and sat on the edge.

"Chere, de closest thin' Remy has to _une sœur_ is in a hospital bed." He laughed, but it was tired and bitter. "Actually, dis one look good when you look at Felix, non?" He was right. She hadn't seed Felix yet that morning, but she'd bet he looked terrible.

"She… ahh, she misses you guys." She sat next to him. "She says she's working on getting back to her body." He just nodded. After what felt like hours, he finally spoke. He said something Rogue needed to hear, and for once, she felt it was really true.

"Petite, she saved yo' life. She knew what she was doin'. 'Llyria don' do stupid shit, she does wha' she wants when she wants. _C'est sa vie_! Course, you should have known how close to de edge y' was, mais… you're young petite, dat come wit experience." He touched a gloved hand to her face. "Look at dis Cajun, chere." When she did, he still kept touching her. "Smurfette'll wake up. Always does. She'll wake up, she'll kick y' ass, she'll move on. None o' dis is y' fault."

They spent the rest of the morning perched up there, talking comfortably about everything. She was Rogue – it looked like Illyria had taken a little time out.

Downstairs though, London was pacing around Cardinal's desk while Kinessa shouted at him from a chair.

"You can't do this, she could kill you!"

"Yeah, but what if she learns something?"

"London, she's not a speeding bullet or a car you can jump in front of." She stood and tried to shake some sense into him, but he was on a warpath, so he just paced in circles around her. "We don't know how this works! If we don't know how it works, how can you possibly try to control it?"


	6. A Blossom for Remembrance

**Chapter Six**

**A/N: I still don't own anything belonging to Marvel Comics. The other characters are mine; please don't use them without asking. Also, if you're reading this story, do review. I don't know if anyone's actually reading and it would be nice to get some feedback! Thanks very much!**

Over the cage floor the horizons come.

- Ted Hughes, The Jaguar

Rogue watched quietly as everyone milled around the Rec Room. Bobby tried to talk to her, but found she didn't have much to say. Illyria was feeling pensive, and so Rogue was too. She watched everyone, silently, and made mental notes of habits, gestures and mannerisms. Illyria was good at seeing people.

They had all become statues; she floated over them with the kind of indifference that would take one's breath away. Students, teachers, everyone – they were nothing. Illyria viewed them as a business deal: nothing more, nothing less. That frightened Rogue, but she was too tightly bound to the telepath to differentiate between them. She was beginning to suspect Illyria cared for no one, until Remy sauntered in.

She gave him a smile that was entirely involuntary and when he winked she took it totally in stride. Illyria loved Remy, she saw him as a member of her family - someone to be watched over and cared for.

When he walked away she again found herself seeing things through Illyria's eyes. She was drawn back into a memory, or more a though of a memory. She thought about how she'd known their faces once upon a time (although who 'they' were, Rogue had no idea), but the months had become years upon years and she found she couldn't remember the sounds of their voices or what they believed in or why they cried. The colours of their eyes, and the tattoos on their bodies and the endless, endless sound of their voices became nothing more than nothing. She was left with a name that outlived her if only because it was printed in the papers or carved on a tombstone and was something she screamed over and over again in her sleep because the blood gave her nightmares. They all became ghosts because there was nothing left to say.

She didn't realise she was crying until Kitty asked her what was wrong. Crying felt so alien to Illyria that she almost didn't understand… She loved and she lost and she made desperate amends for sins she didn't commit. She lived and she killed and she spared and she feared for her life less than she feared for those she loved. Once, she ran away from home. When the nights were too long, the nerves too thin and the hopes too lost, she was a runaway and all she wanted was to be home.

Rogue keeled over and sobbed, hard and loud. She cried because she remembered all the faces of hundreds of dead, friends and enemies alike, who she had never met. She cried because now she realised there was so much she didn't understand, so much she couldn't see. She cried because there was no way to go back, to be someone else. Not for her, and definitely not for Illyria. Then, for the first time that day, the voice in her head took real form.

"_You cannot go back. You can never go back. You can only go forwards. I write letters and hide them in places I never go to, but I can never go back. Make do with that you have."_

"I don't _want _to!" She screamed at no one. "I don't want to stay here, I want to go back. I want to go back to those weekends in far off places that I've never really been! I want him to touch me; I want to feel what you felt! _I want to go back!_" She was sobbing, and she couldn't stop.

"_Don't be afraid of what you have. It's a gift; in it's own way. You just haven't seen I yet. There's a lot out there, you just haven't looked in the right place. Things come and go. The rain washes away all the blood and dust and sweat and tears. You never forget, but over time you learn to let it all go._"

"I don't want it! I don't want any of it! I want… I want…" But she couldn't say anything else. There was nothing left to say because she didn't know what she wanted, so she just kept crying.

Minutes or hours or maybe it was years later, Felix's voice brought her back. He whispered in a language Rogue didn't speak, but she understood. She knew that he was there now, so everything would be all right – Illyria lent her that piece of mind for enough time to pull herself together. Through it all he just whispered soft and low.

"Felix…" He stroked her covered back gently, his hand so much bigger than she'd realised. When she looked up at him with a tear-streaked face, she noticed just how huge Felix was. He stood at 6"2 and weighed more than a truck, but the gentle touch in his eyes was enough for her. "Felix, I don't know what to do." She wasn't sure how he knew she was Rogue and not Illyria, but she took what she could get. He put his gloved hand in hers and pulled her to her feet.

"This has gone on long enough." He said, and his voice was strong, so strong that she believed his words. "This has to end soon. Illyria's too powerful, too intense, for you to have her stuck in there. She'll tear you to shreds." And Rogue knew he was right. Illyria was getting desperate. She was getting lonely and angry and afraid. She wanted out. Rogue was going to follow Felix out of the Rec Room, but before she could make her feet move she was blindsided by a flashback that made her knees buckle.

Illyria was lying on the beach with precious little to protect her from the gunfire. The rain was pouring down and she could hear the crashing of the waves, just feet behind her. She looked to her left and there was Quinn, watching their left flank. She tried to even her breathing enough to control the minds of the militia they were running from.

The hail of gunfire was still coming, but she was getting so used to the sound of AK-47s she just didn't give a fuck anymore. Everyone's confusion, fear and disorientation made controlling them difficult – she fucking hated amateurs.

"What are we looking at?" Quinn had to yell to be heard over all the noise. The rain was getting heavier and she was soaked down to the bone – the chill night wind wasn't helping much either. He asked again and she caught his eye. His skin was pale and she focused long enough to sniff at the air. Blood.

"You're hit!"

"Yeah, so hurry the fuck up!" then he went back to firing his rifle.

One by one, she had each of the rebels take their own lives. Finally, the gunfire stopped. The rain didn't. She rolled over to Quinn and shook his shoulder.

"Quinn! Quinn, my man, look at me." When he did, his eyes were showing whiter than they should have been and there was blood trickling out of his mouth. "Where're you hit?" He didn't answer. "Quinn! Where?" The pounding rain and crashing thunder meant he could hardly hear her and she knew it. She rolled him onto his back and saw the blood running down the wet sand into the sea. She was working his shirt open to get a look at the damage when he grabbed her hand.

"Don't… bother… Not got long left."

"Quinn, let me look. Maybe I can..."

"Do what? Put … pressure on? Until when?" He coughed and she wasn't sure if it was rain or tears running down her face. "No one's coming for us, Blue. No one knows we're here." He was right. No one knew where they were, no one was coming. "You've got half a chance of getting out of here, love, when the rain stops."

"Quinn. I can carry you when I fly, we can-" He shook his head.

"Time's up, love." A tiny smile lifted one side of his lips, but he was stressed enough to drop his mental shields and she could feel how messed up his head was.

"Please, hold on."

"No such luck, pet." He put a little kiss on her hand. "It's been fun, true?" Then he was gone. She watched the light go out of his eyes, and all that was left was the dull reflection of the moon behind some clouds.

"No, no, no, no, you have to wake up!" She shook his body. "Wake up, Quinn! Come on, we have to get out of here! Come on!" But he wouldn't budge. She heard shouting from the tree line. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Tears ran down her face as she checked his weapon. Almost empty. He only had one clip left. Fuck. She went back to his body. "Quinn, come on!" But he wouldn't move. He didn't talk. He didn't even blink. "Please, Quinn, PLEASE!" Nothing…She knew he was dead, his heart had stopped – so had his mind. But no! Not Quinn! Not here, not now! "Fuck!" She waned to scream, but that would give her away.

The rain just wouldn't fucking stop and now her hands were covered in his blood. The shouting got closer and she knew it was time to go. She closed Quinn's eyes, took off his tags, his ring and his silver bracelet. Took his wallet (wouldn't do to leave ID), then she placed a tender kiss on his forehead, said a quiet prayer, unfurled her wings and threw herself into the air with tears running freely down her face.

Quinn Rocke died there, on a beach in French Guyana, in the pouring rain, with no one but her to bear witness. He died with her, but alone.

Every year after that, Illyria went back to that exact spot, on that exact beach, laid a white chrysanthemum down, for remembrance, and watched it fly away on the wind seconds later. She never cried for him, not after than night. But she did miss him - big, strong Quinn, who died watching her back…

"Quinn!" Rogue came back to herself screaming. "Quinn…" the look on Felix's face when she said the name was enough to break her heart all over again.

"You don't ever talk about Quinn…" He reminded her. "You never told me the story, and it's not going to come out this way…" She just nodded, numb all the way from her lips to her toes… so numb… was this how Illyria felt all the time? Cold, numb? She cried and she cried and she cried, but she didn't know why anymore.

Felix looked at the girl next to him and tried not to swear. She was crying like a leaky water main and he had no idea what he was supposed to do now. He had no idea what she was crying about. Illyria never cried, ever! It was a rule!

And she mentioned Quinn. Illyria never mentioned Quinn. She'd just come back from their job in South America, said 'he didn't make it' and left it at that. He knew she went down there every year, on the anniversary of his death, but he also knew not to say anything. Fuck, she was crying again.

A crowd had gathered now, to watch Rogue rip her own eyes out. Not good. Not good at all. He put his fingers in his mouth and whistled. All of twenty seconds later, London hopped down from the upstairs landing and came to his side.

"Sweet Jesus, mate. You do know how to dig yourself a grave." He then picked Rogue up like a little baby and carried her up the stairs. Bobby followed and that kinda made Felix want to hit the guy, although he had no idea why. Fucking kid.

He made his way through the kitchen, down into the basement, took a right (never left) and opened the door to one of the Medical Lab's recovery rooms. Illyria was laying on her back in the single bed; her blue hair brushed neatly (courtesy of Ash) and smoothed over her left shoulder. All the beads, trinkets, rings and braids were as odd looking as ever and it was a small comfort to know that even in this fucked up situation something was normal. He pulled the straight back chair from the corner up to the bed and straddled it, leaned on the back, rested his elbows on the top, and stared at his partner.

"You gotta wake up, Snowflake…" He knew she couldn't hear him, knew she wouldn't wake up, but Illyria had stood by his side for almost forty-five years – he needed her. "Everyone's going pretty fucking nuts. Rogue's got all your memories floating around in her head. She doesn't know how to deal. Doesn't know what to do with your pain, your fear, your anger, feel me?" She didn't move. When he looked around the boring room, he noticed a glass vase of purple and white calla lilies on the beside-table and they made him smile. Illyria loved calla lilies. She said the shape was sensual…

Her loaded .45 was next to the vase, which London had put there. She liked having weapons close and he knew it would make her feel safer when she woke.

He took in her features in a way he so rarely did these days. Illyria was the kind of woman who was beautiful, but so angry and so cold that no one ever saw it. Her blue hair and violent eyes distracted from the soft angles of her face, which was gentle as she slept, all the hard, angry lines gone for now – only to return when she reopened her eyes.

Ahh, those eyes. Her eyes weren't just blue. They were sky blue and robin's egg peppered around streaks of midnight and lapis. Cerulean and sapphire shocked around an inner ring of brandeis, her pupils an inky black that just called him in. He'd spent so many years looking into his own black eyes that the first time he stared into hers, he was shocked to the core. The ice and fire in her gaze had shot right through him on that dismal July night in 1969. The windows into her soul had been shut and locked tight. He'd know she was it for him. She was the woman in his life.

It wasn't love – not the kind with the kissing and the fucking and the having kids. But it was, in its own way. It was their kind of love. He trusted her with more than his life. He trusted her with everything he had and that meant more than love.

When he'd met her, she'd just escaped her prison and she was looking to make a living doing the only thing she knew how: killing. So she'd come to The Reverend - the king of the black market, the preacher, the leader, the lord, the everything. She'd found him and requested he put her on retainer for jobs he needed done, like he had with so many others. But that wasn't what he'd needed at the time. No, he'd been in the market for a right hand man. She fit the bill.

Six years later had them both living in Belgium. She was her own woman, working jobs she got here and there – enough to live life as comfortably as she allowed herself – but still running the empire with him. She'd met Wade in Monaco, in 1975, just after the end of the Vietnam war. He was still working for Stryker on the Weapon X programme, but somehow they managed to hang out for eight months.

Eventually Illyria had come back to Belgium, in time to move to Japan with him. By 1985, all international black market transactions were run through him and she was pretty much the queen to his king of the world.

When Quinn had died in '86, she had disappeared to Cyprus for a few months, where Wade had joined her. They stayed there until late '87. When she came back, she was different – better. After that she and Wade saw each other for 48 hours every three months, without fail. He was pretty sure they were romantically involved, but he didn't ask and she didn't tell. Not because she didn't want him to know, but because it was personal and she liked things that were 'just her own'.

In 1993, he had met Eleanor, when she had died, it had been Illyria who had talked to him, sparred with him, cleaned up after he'd thrown an angry fit and handled business while he was 'otherwise occupied' (read: drinking himself stupid). When Ash had been left without a mother, Illyria had accepted her without question and raised the little girl as her own.

They'd moved to the states shortly after, Los Angeles, and Felix had toned down his hands-on approach to business. He handed over most of it to his next in command, Rich, and concentrated on raising his daughter. They moved to New York in 1998.

Two years later, Victor and Cardinal came across the pond from Europe and formed Larmes du Soleil. London and Kinessa came in from India, Haven and Sherrylin from Russia – and so a family was formed. They earned their name in the business, they were The Tears of the Sun, and here they were – the world's leading mercenaries, the best of the best.

Now there she was, his girl, laid up in a hospital bed and all because of an act of kindness. Illyria wasn't a lifesaver. She didn't have the kind of bleeding heart a lot of people sported. Nope, she was stone fucking cold and he loved it. The one in a million time she'd decided to help someone, just for the sake of it, she'd ended up in a coma. Fuck. He wanted to throw the chair, but that almost seemed disrespectful.

Felix was caught up in his swearing marathon that he didn't hear the door open. He jumped when Aisling put a hand on his shoulder.

"Whatcha doin' down here, princess?" She just smiled. Tucked under her arm was Arabian Nights, the Arabic version.

"She gonna be okay, Dad?" He stood, turned the chair, sat properly and patted his knee. It had been years since the seventeen year old had sat on his lap, but nothing brought people closer than tragedy. He kissed her hair.

"Yeah, she will be." He took the book out from under her arm and opened it at her marked page. Slowly, in fluent Arabic, he began to read.

From behind the two-way mirror, Ororo watched father and daughter sit by Illyria's bedside and read. She hadn't known Felix spoke Arabic and she hadn't known Ash understood it. She guessed one did learn something every day.

Rogue could practically see Illyria pacing. In her mind's eyes she had formed the cage, with its cold iron bars, and she could catch glimpses of a beautiful white tiger in the shadows, padding up and down and up and down and up and down and never stopping. The huge tigress just walked back and forth, the glint in her blue eyes feral and deadly. The more time passed, the faster she paced.

"She's getting restless." Rogue looked up at London who was fixing her something small to eat.

" Aye, pet, I suspect she is. Just surprised it took this long, is all." He chopped up some left over chicken. "You can take them gloves of, you know."

"What?" She looked down at her gloves.

"It's just you and me here, love. I'm not afraid of you, an' it must be a nightmare to wear them all the time. I know it pisses K off no end." She turned one gloved hand over and stared at it. He didn't say more though, just left the choice up to her. She'd discovered that that was London's way: he said his piece, then he let it all play out. If it was none of his business, he stayed out of it.

"Can I ask you something?" She couldn't see his eyes behind his sunglasses, and she hadn't been around long enough to read him.

"Go for it." He put the chopped celery in a bowl.

"Do you stay out of things because that's just who you are, or because you learned to?" She just caught his raised eyebrow.

"I didn't realise this would be a personal question." It took her a moment to realise he was joking. "I learned to, love. As a kid, I was impulsive, outspoken – but that got beaten out of me eventually.

"Beaten?"

"Those are the rules when you live in a pack. The king's word is law - you can't protest it. If you do, you get beat." He shrugged and put a plate of chicken salad in front of her. "White meat," he said, "it should help to keep her tiger away." Rogue's eyes widened.

"What do you mean, keep her tiger away?" He licked some mayonnaise of his finger.

"You're lucky you haven't shifted yet. In fact, I'm surprised – what with all the emotions you've got banging about in your noggin."

"Why shouldn't I shift?"

"Firstly, you've got absolutely no control, so you'd just be a wild animal in a house full of people. Second, it hurts. The first time hurts like a motherfucker. If you shift, you'll experience more pain than you could ever imagine." He put everything back in the fridge.

"Any idea why I haven't yet?" She spooned some into her mouth.

"Best guess? Illyria's got some incredible control. Not over herself as a person, but over her tiger – best I've ever seen. Felix has top of the line control over himself in any situation, but he doesn't spend long enough being close to shifting to have the kind of expertise Blue does. I 'spect she's making sure you don't." She contemplated that. It made sense. For all the things she'd seen and all the things she'd felt, Illyria had kept a pretty good handle on it all. As well as she could anyway.

"What about you? How's your control?" He was behind her, so she didn't see him flinch.

"Mine isn't brilliant."

"How come?" He didn't answer for a long few minutes.

"Suffice to say, I have my own personal shock collar, so it's not something you need to worry about. Okay?" Then he washed his hands and poured himself a coffee.

"Shock collar?" His mirrored sunglasses pinned her down.

"Anyone ever tell you, you ask too many questions?" He dried his hands and folded up the towel.

"Sorry…"

"Don't be, just remember that curiosity killed the cat." He pulled up a chair opposite her. "Kinessa's my shock collar. Physically, emotionally – the whole shebang." He rubbed his hands together, and she noticed how big they were. "She keeps me on a tight leash." He shrugged. "Makes sure I don't get out of control."

"What happens when you do?" Illyria's telepathy picked up a brief image of blood and death before his walls went back up. She sucked in a breath.

"Bad things, pet. Bad things."

"Why is your control bad. I thought you said you weren't impulsive anymore…" He leaned back in his seat and watched her silently. The coffee in front of him steamed.

"I'm not tellin' you this cause I need to 'open up', or because I 'trust you'. Understood?" She nodded. "When someone spends too long in their animal form, they start to change. Start to think more like an animal. Sometimes its physical. That's why Illyria has fangs." He tapped his tooth "and I have funny eyes." He tapped his shades. "Some of it's mental, which is why Illyria is the way she is. It's why I'm on such a hair trigger. Mine is worse than hers; that was the whole idea. It was a punishment. They made me spend long enough as a wolf that I went bananas. Now, I think more like a wolf than a human. See things the way an animal would. With me?" She nodded. "I'm not as capable of rational thought as your average human." He shrugged. "Tends to end badly when I get angry." She took along, hard look at him.

London was a big guy. Not as big as Haven but bigger than Felix and a hell of a lot bigger than Rogue. He was leaning back in his chair, big hands folded behind his head and his long, jean clad legs sprawled out under the table. He wore a black Henley and a silver chain on his left wrist. She'd never seen his eyes - they were still hidden behind mirrored shades. His black hair, cut short, but longer than it had been a few days ago was sticking up a little on one side, as if he'd slept on it funny. Stubble made his jaw look a little darker than the rest of his face, but his skin was pale.

"Where's Kinessa?" She asked. He fidgeted a little.

"We're fighting."

"Why?" He chuckled and shook his head.

"Curiosity, pet. Killed the cat." She just smiled. "I had a stupid idea. It's dangerous, but it might just work." He shrugged. "She loves me too much to let me try it out." He shrugged. "She's completely right." Rogue laughed.

"I don't think I've ever heard a man say that before!"

"It's true. Kinessa doesn't argue if she's not right. She's always right." Just then, the door opened and the woman in question came in. She put her handbag on the side and looked at them both, her brown eyes as closed off as ever.

"How are you feeling?" She asked Rogue, who just shrugged. "I just had to feed Sergio…" Sergio was Illyria's cat, who Rogue had never actually met. He apparently didn't like anyone. London scratched his head and Kinessa sighed. "Do what you gotta do, London." He leaned back in his chair, then rocked forwards, coming to his feet. He slipped off his glasses and blinked away the pain, putting them carefully on the table. Rogue got a glimpse of his diamond eyes and caught her breath.

He walked up to Kinessa and tucked a stray wave of hair behind her ear. He traced he lines of her face with his eyes, adjusting to the light.

"You're my girl." He said. "You always will be. Stood by me when no one else would. Saw things no one else saw. I became more than I ever thought I would be because of you." One long finger ran down her throat, then across her shoulder. "My girl." Then he wrapped his huge body around hers, like a cocoon, a shield – a protection from the world.

Rogue wasn't sure what to do with herself, so when Caroline's computer screen spoke up, she was relieved.

"Mr. Bendeci has requested that everyone come down to the main living room. Ms. Destiny has made her appearance."


	7. Destiny

**Chapter Seven: Destiny**

**A/N: I may use quotes for some of Bliss' words, and I won't credit all authors, because I can't remember a lot of them, but please be aware that not all of her words are mine (although some are).**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of Marvel's characters. HOWEVER I do own all the others, so please ASK before you use them. Thank you very much.**

**Please read and Review, so I know someone's actually _reading_ this story. It gives me a reason to keep writing. **

Destiny looked around at all the people coming in. She'd told the Undertaker she wanted to see them all. She was tired of hearing their voices buzzing around in her head like over exited butterflies. She flexed her silvery-green wings and enjoyed the feeling of Haven braiding her long, white hair.

"I am as big as an elephant, but lighter than a feather. What am I, Haven?" She felt his fingers pause in her hair as he thought for a moment. She and Haven had been playing this game for hundreds of years – she would make up riddles and he would find all the answers, like a good little lion. Her Haven… He was so precious…

"The air, or the wind, maybe?"

"Good, good, good!" She clapped her hands excitedly. Everyone was here now and she could play!

"Would you like me to come with you?" Her wonderful protector asked, before letting her go. She absently shook her head at him and moved towards the girl with the funny coloured hair.

"Little girl, you with the funny stripes!" The girl tried to pin Destiny with what was supposed to be a frightening glare, but it didn't work. Nothing worked. Destiny just sailed through everything. "What is black and red and white all over?" The girl just blinked.

"I don't know."

"Does Illyria know?" The girl scratched her head.

"She says: a sunburned penguin." When Destiny laughed the sound was as clear as a bell.

"Do you know how extraordinary your abilities are?" The Rogue looked away, but Destiny put a bare hand under her chin, ignoring the girl's flinch. "You won't hurt me," she reassured, "your ability is a gift, however hidden it may be. It's also a brilliant test of character, those who love enough to not need touch will shine like rough diamonds in the moonlight…" Speaking of diamonds in the rough, Destiny drifted away from Rogue without another word. She spun out toward Remy LeBeau with a curious glint in her eye.

"Bad, Remy. No cookie…"

"_Pour quoi, petite_?"

"You left without saying goodbye…" She felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes, but made no attempt to hide or stop them. Tears were natural - she would cry them.

"Y' already knew Remy was going."

"It's the thought that counts." She sniffled. "What goes all the way around the world but still stays in one corner?" He shrugged and she rolled her eyes at him. "A stamp. You didn't call, you didn't write. Silly you, make it look like you don't care."

"But you know I cared."

"Of course, I know everything." She smiled her wicked smile. Remy looked oh so pretty now – tall, handsome. He still had those haunting, wonderful eyes she'd spoken of years before. He looked like exactly what they called him – _le diable blanc_.

"Remy, have you ever felt this way?"

"What way, _félicité?_"

"Like you want to shoot for the moon, but you're too busy gazing at starts. Like you want to take a deep breath, capture the night and pray that the liquid silver in your blood never fades, because if it does – you might just explode." His eyes widened. "I told you, long ago, that you're time would come. It's here, my pretty little thief… What is it Felix says…? Go get 'em, tiger?" She winked. "Do you remember what I said?"

"_Oui, petite,_ a man don' forget words like that. Y' said Remy would find something that would burn him from t' inside. Y' said he would crash and burn, but what came from the destruction would be stronger, prouder, better. Something worth being. Y' said Remy'd find his way, _petite_, but to do that he had to fall first." His eyes were grim as he recited her prophecy back to her. "Y' scare me, _félicité._"

"A necessary evil, I'm afraid." She tilted her head to the side and heard some muttering. Naughty people, speaking out of turn. They would make the fish angry if they kept at it! "You shouldn't make my fish angry, Logan. They tend to eat all your bread." The gruff looking Wolverine seemed surprised that she would speak to him.

"What fish?" Ahh, such a brute.

"It's not only what you see that's there." When she faced him, she watched the butterflies dance above his head a little, before they flew away. "Why is the moon so lonely, Logan?" He blinked at her. Why did no one ever just answer the question? Not true, Haven always answered….

"Why?"

"Because she used to have a lover. Someone has already told you this story, haven't they, Logan?" His eyes narrowed. Animal time. On reflex, Bliss looked around for Haven, who was beside her as always – solid as a rock.

"What do you know about me?" The feral man growled. Bliss reached for Haven's left hand, he held onto her, enveloping her in his safety.

"Everything." She whispered. "I've seen it all." And what a long story it was…

"Tell me!" She shook her head; her white braid was a thick rope in an ocean breeze behind her back.

"Can't. Can only tell you what the voices say I can. They said tell you that the name of the moon's lover is Kuekuatsu. Do you know what it means?"

"What do I care what it means?"

"Humour me." She clutched at Haven tighter, although she was no afraid. The noisy ones made her nervous.

"Fine, what does it mean?"

"It means the Wolverine." She watched as Logan's eyes widened and a memory flashed through his mind. A memory of a woman with midnight black hair and sky blue eyes who told him a story of lovers, moons and wildflowers. She watched him stutter and shake. She watched the emotions swim across his face. "The only way to lose true love is to forget it, Wolverine." She tilted her head to the side, knowing she had his attention. The fish and birds fluttering about him all watched her now. "Red is really not your colour." She caught his eyes flickering to the red haired telepath.

"What is my colour?" _Now_ he was asking the right questions!

"Amethyst." His eyebrows went up. "She'll have eyes of amethyst and a heart of steel. You'll find her covered in cherry blossom in a place you thought you'd forgotten." She walked closer to him, her bare feet making no sound on the living room's plush carpet. She laid a tiny hand on his rough cheek.

"Much like our London, you will ask yourself how any woman in their right mind could be so blind that she might find you safe. Much like our Kinessa she will stand tall in the heart of darkness and say she knows you have a soul even though you're heartless. She will find colour in the darkest places and beauty in the saddest faces. She will teach you to do the same." He seemed shocked and a little in awe of her hand on his face, as if few people touched him voluntarily.

"How do you know, though?"

"I've seen it."

"What if you're wrong?" She threw back her head and laughed, turning to face Larmes du Soleil.

"Have I ever been wrong?"

"Vague, but never wrong." Cardinal answered. She was always so graceful, Destiny thought. Was it by design, or was it natural? Probably natural, at least that's what the stars said… and after all, the stars were never wrong.

"I'm not wrong, Wolverine. I cannot give you a time, or a place, or a name. That's not what the voices said. They said all you needed was hope." Her sage-green eyes met his hazel ones, and she wondered if he understood – it didn't matter to her if he did, she'd said her piece – but it would have been nice… He just nodded, so she moved on.

"London?"

"Yeah, love?"

"Did you go and see The Nutcracker, like I told you?" He smiled and bit the side of his cheek, an old nervous habit of his.

"That, I did, pet."

"Did you find what you didn't know you were looking for?"

"I did." She smiled at him. London had always had such strange fish. They were wild and angry, but they shone so, so, bright she couldn't help but like them.

"I'm glad for you, dear heart." She looked at him, standing so tall. "You always make me feel such a coward, London. You're like a hurricane to a house of cards. Such potential for total destruction… so unstoppable." She twirled around before him; listening to the voices of his life whisper to her, sing to her. "Are you afraid of fire, London?"

"I should be." He answered. Yes, he should be.

"But you've never gone around fire expecting not to sweat?"

"I know if I strike a match, I'm going to feel the flames." Smart boy.

"But you are not afraid." She stopped turning. The voices had said all they would say. "Your strength puts me to shame." She bowed her head in respect of his character. "You will give anything, but you will not give up. You will not care what kind of hole is in the ground, or what kind of ocean is in your way. You won't care what kind of hell you need to cross. No, you won't go halfway." She looked at her reflection in his glasses. "You're like a heat seeking missile."

"Do we know who I'm looking for?"

"Mercy."

"Is that Mercy, with a capital, love, or mercy?"

"That's for you to find out." He nodded his thanks for her words and slipped an arm around his lover's waist, his worry for her safety clear in the thin line his lips made. "Forge your own path," she advised, "you never fit in the system." He chuckled a little at that.

Bliss looked around the room. All the X-men sat pretty much together, and all Larmes du Soleil had made themselves comfortable in their usual places. Zeus was leaning on the side of an armchair, with London at her side. Cardinal sat in one of the leather chairs, with the Undertaker perched on one arm, close enough to be a safety net, far enough away for them both to breathe – the way they did everything. Aisling had her legs crossed and was on the plush carpet, watching everything quietly. Felix leaned on the mantle piece. Haven stood, feet shoulder width apart, arms crossed over his chest, watching her closely. But the far corner of the room was empty. Illyria was not leaning in the space between the door and the window – the darkest corner. It looked bare an empty. Her body was gone, but her butterflies and bees and dolphins still whispered…. She would come to that later.

"Why do you wear glasses?" She asked the stern faced man who stood next to the telepath with the red hair. Her name… Jill? Jane? Jean? Yes, Jean!

"I thought you knew everything." Hm, maybe she'd have fun with this one.

"I know the answer. Do you?" She got the impression he rolled his eyes.

"I can't control my powers." She came closer, until she was less than a foot away from him.

"Can't you?" He shook his head. "Take them off." He shook his head again. "You won't hurt me. I promise." Very slowly, it wouldn't do to spook him; she reached up for his glasses. She wasn't sure if it was curiosity or shock that kept him from stopping her. Jean though, she tried it.

"No!" She knocked Bliss' hands away. "He said he can't control his powers! Are you crazy?" Bliss held up hand to stop Haven moving forward – it wouldn't do to get blood on the carpet – and tilted her head to the side.

"Of course I'm crazy. Hadn't you noticed?" Jean looked a little taken aback at that. Good. "Please have a little faith." Quick as a flash, she whipped off Scott's sunglasses. He cramped his eyes shut. "Dear, dear, dear me what did they do to you?" She asked him. He just kept his eyes closed. "Open them. I want to see your eyes."

"Why?" He demanded.

"Because you have them covered at all times, which means you needn't guard them. You're eyes are the windows into your soul, and no one sees them, so they have no reason to lie. I value truth above beauty. Show me." Slowly, he cracked them open – and nothing happened. There were no red optic blasts. He didn't put a football-sized hole in Bliss. He just opened beautiful grey-blue eyes and saw the world in technicolor. He looked around in awe and Bliss smiled at her handy work.

"How did you do this? How?" He touched his eyes gently, closing and reopening them all over again.

"It's a mix of mutation and magic."

"You can do magic?"

"Is faith not magic, youngling?" He blinked again. "Look around you, see the world as it is meant to be seen." She displayed the room for him, then a thought brought tears to her eyes.

"What? What's wrong? Are you okay?" Scott's voice was worried, and she was touched.

"I wish Maverick was here. Her hair really is magnificent. Beautiful blue waves – like the ocean… It would look so wonderful to you now."

"Maverick?"

"Illyria, of course." He nodded in understanding, still a little overwhelmed by the colours around him.

"Your mutation, is part of it neutralising abilities?" She cocked her head to the side and thought about that.

"I have lots of abilities, Mr. Summers. I've been around a long time. Sometimes you just can't help but collect them." She smiled at him tenderly, having decided she liked him.

"When will this stop? When will my powers come back?" His eyes were wide, trying to absorb every detail.

"When I walk away, after I've said my piece, it will be up to you to learn control."

"How do I do that?"

"You have faith."

"Faith?"

"Faith," she whispered, "is taking the first step even though you can't see the staircase. You don't believe in yourself Mr. Summers – you believe in who you are _supposed _to be, not who you _are_. I suggest you take a long hard look at who you have become and ask yourself: why?" He frowned, his beautiful eyes clouding over with frustration.

"But I did everything how it was supposed to be done. I did everything right…"

"And therein lies the problem." She smiled. "You never made a mistake. You never did anything just because. You may do as you will, it is no business of mine, but consider that one day you may wake up asking yourself if this is who you want to be. Think about it. As long as you are unsure, your powers will be out of control - when you find yourself, they will be yours to command." He hesitantly placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Thank you."

"I did but speed up the process. You would have found your way eventually." With one last touch, she wondered away from him and he put his glasses back on.

"I'm afraid I do not understand much of what you are saying, dear." The wheelchair man addressing her caught her off guard. Why was he talking?

"Why are you talking?"

"Am I not allowed to ask questions?" She widened her eyes at him, and reached out for Haven.

"Haven, why does it speak to me?" He took her hand in his and smiled.

"I think, he doesn't understand."

"That is no problem of mine!" She cried. Haven turned to the Professor.

"Shut up. She says what she wants, how she wants, when she wants. You only speak when spoken to. Understood?"

"That's hardly fair!" Jean joined in the protesting. Destiny heard all the voices get louder. She heard all the little thoughts scream. They cried and they cried and they whispered and she couldn't even hear herself think anymore.

"Haven!" she reached out for her protector and he was right there, wrapping his body around hers, tight enough that she could stay anchored to the world. "Haven, they made the trees talk! I named all the stars this morning, but I'm still so confused." Tears ran down her face and the tips of her fingers began to ache.

"Why're you confused, D?"

"Because I named them all the same name!" She had to scream to be heard above all the fish. They wouldn't let her talk.

"What name did you name them?" He asked, calm as ever. Haven would help fix this, she was sure.

"Twinkle-twinkle!" She sobbed into his shirt. "I named them all twinkle-twinkle…"

"How about, you and me name them all different names tonight? How about we name one after every person you watch over? That okay?" She sniffled and looked up into his eyes, completely unaware that the whole room was watching them both.

"You'll help me name all the stars?"

"Every god-damn one. We'll rename ever single twinkle-twinkle, okay?" She nodded, her faith in him so strong that she would follow him to the end of the world.

"And no one will speak out of turn?" He looked at the room, glaring pointedly at the Professor and Jean.

"If anyone speaks out of turn, Cardinal will have to order a new carpet. Promise." She nodded, and ever so slowly, tried to stand by herself. She hated it when the voices got too loud, whispering too many futures, pasts and present lives into her small mind. Some days they got so bad Haven had to put those pointy things in her, and pour all the liquid in just so she could sleep. She hated those days… she always forgot what her name was then, not that she remembered her real name anyway.

"Good." She nodded. "Good, good." She was going to stand, but her head began to swim and the room she was in slipped away until she was in a different time and place. She watched a scene unfold with silent eyes and bated breath. When she faded back to reality, Haven's face was the first thing she saw.

"What did you see, D?" She blinked at him, then turned to find Felix.

"Why are you afraid o the Goddess?" He straightened his tall frame out and narrowed his eyes.

"We talking about who I think we're talking about?" She nodded. "I'm not afraid of her, D, I'm afraid of what she means."

"And what's that?" She was genuinely curious; this was the first she'd seen of the Goddess.

"She's everything I'm not."

"Ugly, impolite, dishonourable, humourless and angry?" His eyebrows shot up.

"What?"

"That's a few of the things you are not." He was going to explain but she cut him off. "Don't be afraid. I've seen it. It's going to happen. Let go your fear, embrace your hope. There is much love in you, Reverend. Preach to her – show her what it means to be real." Then she addressed the Cardinal. "I would like to retire, but I will probably re-emerge at some point, if you do not mind."

"Of course not, darling, you are always welcome." Destiny nodded her head, took Haven's hand and drifted back down from whence she'd come. The voices were a-whispering and she had new painting to paint. And they had to rename the stars. They had to give all the twinkle-twinkles a new calling…

**A/N: Let it be known, that writing from the perspective of someone as insane as I wanted Bliss to be is a _nightmare_! Please let me know what you think – it'll help if I need to write her again.**


	8. The Arrival of Change

**Chapter Eight: The Arrival of Change**

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters belonging to Marvel Comics. This is purely for entertainment purposes. The other characters ARE mine. Please ask if you want to use them.

Scott Summers had always thought his life was perfect. He was the field leader of the X-men. He was engaged to a beautiful woman, who made him happy. He had everything he'd ever wanted. Or did he just have everything he'd always been told he wanted? Was Bliss right? Was he missing something? Had he whipped though his youth so fast he'd never actually grown up?

Scott was on the porch at the back of the house, just outside the kitchen. Jean had gone upstairs to take a shower, but he'd been too distracted to be interested. He didn't realise London had come outside until the bigger man spoke.

"She liked you, mate." He was surprised to hear this – he wouldn't have been able to see her moods or preferences if someone had put a gun to his head.

"How do you know?"

"She explained herself." He said, as if it were that obvious. "You mind if I smoke?" When Scott shook his head, London lit up with a flick of his Zippo then hopped up onto the wooden rail. "So what do you think?"

Scott sized him up. London seemed like a solid guy. He never took his glasses off, but neither did Scott. He seemed to treat Kinessa well and the girls were happy enough to be living with him. Right then, Scott needed someone to share his thoughts with, later on he would pretend London was just in the right place at the right time – under no circumstances was he starting to trust a killer!

"Just between you and me?"

"I might share with K, but that's as far as it goes. She'd know anyway." He grinned and tapped his temple. "Empath."

"It never occurred to me before now, but maybe she's right."

"Sherrylin? She's always right, mate, it's just a question of what the buggerin' fuck she's on about!" Scott had to laugh at that. She did seem kind of…

"Yeah, she is kinda different." London just laughed harder. "I think maybe, looking back, I became who I am because everyone thought I should, because that's what they wanted from me. I never felt like it was wrong before… but now that I look at it. She's right. I didn't do any of the things I dreamed of. I always thought they were just dreams…"

"Piece of advice, mate?" His mirrored sunglasses were disconcerting and Scott got a dose of what it felt like for others to try looking him in the eye.

"Lay it on me." He invited.

"We're all a product of our experiences. Me, I'm a feral killer on a hair trigger because of some screwed up shit that happened to me. You, you're a high school maths teacher and mutant vigilante because that's who you were raised to be." He took a drag and blew a smoke ring that was quickly destroyed by the breeze. "If you don't test the waters, play with new things, try out all your toys, you'll never reach the full potential."

"Did you do that? Reach your full potential?" London was quiet for a minute, as if actually thinking that over.

"I might have done, if I hadn't been pushed down certain paths, if I hadn't seen some things. I might have been a completely different man. As it is, I'm lucky. I have everything I need. Sure, I'm all scrambled up in here," he tapped his forehead, "but I've got a life. I make do. I love my woman - she loves me. I have a pack to protect, I have a job to do – I'm good at it – and for the most part, I enjoy my life." He looked through the kitchen window and inside to where Kinessa was laughing over a plate of fruit with Cardinal. "Sure, sometimes things don't turn out the way you want them to. Sure, I've had a hard life. But I can, honest to any God you want to believe in, look back and say – yeah, I tried it all. And I may not have 'followed my dreams', but I found new ones along the way."

Scott caught the glance the bigger man had thrown inside. He thought of Jean, of how much he loved her…

"Gimme a sec, mate." London hopped off the rail, put his smoke in the wicker table's glass ashtray and went inside. Through the window Scott watched his brief exchange with Kinessa. He hopped in and kissed her, quickly but passionately, then made to hop back out.

"What's that for?" she asked, fingers touching her lips. He shrugged, looking a little sheepish.

"You look nice today." Then he shut the door, retrieved his smoke and took his place back on the rail. Scott was shocked. Not by London's actions, but by the alarm bells that had started ringing.

When was the last time he had kissed Jean just because? Made love to her because he wanted to? When was the last time they had shared something special?

"Something's banging about all up in your noggin." London observed. "What's up?" Did Scott love Jean? Did he love her or did the man he was supposed to be love the woman he thought she should be?

"Do I love my fiancé?" London's glasses hid his eyes and Scott couldn't make out any real expression on his face. He leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees, cigarette dangling for one hand, and looked at Scott.

"There's lots of ways to love someone, mate." The words were gentle, but somehow they still felt like a bullet to the brain. Funny, it was to his brain, not his heart. The thought frightened him, but it didn't _hurt_ him…

"What do I do?"

"You do _not _want to ask me about life choices. You want: All-my-files-are-in-order-I've-done-it-all-and-now-I'm-a-happy-man then talk to Victor. I'm still working on not ballsing up my own life." Scott nodded, he could understand that.

Kinessa knocked on the glass door before pulling it open. Her hair shone bronze in the sunlight.

"I'm gonna go make lunch. You eating?" She asked. London quirked an eyebrow.

"Do I ever not?" She grinned and helps up her hands.

"Just asking!" He laughed and nodded.

"Mr. Summers, you're perfectly welcome to join us, I'm sure the girls would love a familiar face…" He was struck by her kindness. He didn't think he'd ever said more than two words to Kinessa before, but here she was asking him to join them for lunch.

"That would be nice, Jean said she wasn't hungry…"

"Sure thing, just be up in a half hour or so. Both of you." She glared at her man.

"Lover, am I ever late?"

"No, baby, never late – you just like to take your sweet, sweet time." Then she slipped inside with a wink.

"That's some woman you got there…" Scott observed. London nodded, his expression thoughtful.

"Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale her infinite variety – other women cloy what appetites they feed, but she makes hungry where she most satisfies." He said quietly and with a touch of reverence.

"I'm sorry, I'm not familiar with the quote." London looked up, as if only just remembering Scott was still there.

"From Shakespeare's _Antony and Cleopatra_. Basically, familiarity doesn't breed contempt where she's concerned. I won't ever grow tired of her – I always want more." Scott considered that for a moment and tried to put the quote up beside himself and Jean.

It didn't work. Jean wasn't someone who always had something new and exiting to offer, together they were familiar. Had they grown stale? He was growing more and more morose in his thought process when London clapped him on the shoulder.

"Come on, if we're late, I'll never hear the end of it!"

Upstairs, the three girls were already sitting down for lunch and Kinessa was getting ready to dish up. Roast chicken. Scott was struck by the domesticity of the situation. London came in and ruffled Rogue's hair, careful not to touch skin, making her laugh and shrink away. He grinned at Kitty and made a joke about Jubilee's bracelets. Scott was shown to one of the end seats at the table and London helped Kinessa with the food.

"Lover, you're too good too me. Look at this! So much food!" She swatted his hand away from a dish.

"You know my feast is a famine without you." Having said that, she chased him away.

Lunch was a blur of casual conversation, witty banter and sharing stories. The girls seemed to Scott to be perfectly at home, with London and Kinessa having taken all three of them in without a hitch. He thought of the last couple of nights, where he and Jean had eaten in silence, their only conversation being about work and the X-men. He wondered when they'd lost the flare in their relationship…

Scott caught Kinessa watching him from across he table and remembered she was an empath. He shrugged in apology and she smiled gently.

After food was finished and all the clearing up was done, London went to work on the hardware they were fitting in at the X-mansion. The girls settled down to watch TV and Kinessa made Scott a cup of coffee.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She asked.

"I'd rather ask you questions, if you don't mind." She laughed and waved a hand, encouraging him along.

"How long have you and London been together?" She looked up, counting in her head.

"Eighteen years." She smiled softly at the memory and he was touched.

"How did you meet?"

"Oh, _that's_ a funny story." She cleared her throat. "I was on a job, a contract kill – rare for me – twenty grand to find him and kill him. Seemed easy enough." She shrugged. "So I went to Singapore, found him, broke into his house…"

"Then you saw him and that was that?" He surprised himself with the joke and the dramatic gesture he accompanied it with. She laughed at him.

"Nope. Nope, I shot him." She said. "I really did…" When she shook her head, her brown waves tumbled down one shoulder. She looked away a little, as if disturbed by the thought of hurting him. "I went back through the condo to wipe down anything I'd touched, then came back to the bedroom to police my brass. He'd woken up. He was, honest to God, growing his brain back. He rolled over and told me to run before he could move again. But I couldn't." She looked at the ground. "I couldn't move, I was terrified and he could smell it. When he recovered, he was going to kill me. He was going to tear me to pieces and enjoy it. The only thing that saved me was my skin." She wiggled her fingers.

"Skin?"

"Electric touch. I didn't kill him, I didn't even knock him out, but he couldn't hold on long enough to do any damage. Eventually we got to a stale mate and he poured me a drink." She laughed and took one more sip of her coffee. "It was messy after that, very messy. London was screwed up. _I _was screwed up. I fell in love in the worst way, with someone who didn't know what to do with me. He fell in love without understanding what was happening, without trusting himself or me. It was… trying."

"But you worked it out?" she nodded.

"Every mistake we made, every bit of ourselves we broke – it was all a piece of the puzzle, a brick in the wall. Now we're about as close to indestructible as it gets. He's doing good – still has terrible impulse control, anger issues and he's on a hair trigger, but he'd never raise a hand to me. I trust him implicitly and vice versa."

They spent the next hour or so exchanging stories and memories. He found she was actually pretty normal, except for the gun-for-hire-bound-to-a-wild-animal thing.

Remy was on the roof again, pacing, smoking, talking to himself and pacing some more. Crashing and burning was on his mind, Sherrylin's words were ringing in his ears. He knew what she meant, about being burned up from the inside.

It was Rogue. Every time he looked at her, she set his spirit alight. She was young and vibrant, even though no one saw it. Hiding behind the shy glances and covered skin was a woman who could give as good as she got and had no issue with smacking anyone down – she'd done it to him a lot! The only time he'd spoken to her without it ending in anger had been right on the roof, where he was now. Even that was just because _Bleu Tonner_ liked him.

He'd wanted to seduce her when he first came to the mansion. Then he'd found out about her mutation – that plan went out the window. He'd, of course, wanted to rise to the challenge, find a way to touch the untouchable, but Stormy had said she was fragile, and after watching _la fille_ for a few days he'd realised it was true.

She was fragile – and together with the Ice Cube – her head was so full of other people that she just preferred to be alone. Why seek company when you have psyches in your head?

He still wanted her though. Sure he liked her personality – the spice, the fire – but he could settle for the physical when she refused to talk to him. Just thinking about her now made his cock twitch, and that made his heart ache, which made his head pound and now he was back at square one: Remy alone on a roof, smoking, pacing, driving himself insane with metal pictures, videos and fantasies of a woman he could never have – never deserve…

_Merde _he needed to get out of the house!

Storm knocked nervously on the Cardinal's office door.

"Come in." Her voice was silk, as always. Strom took a moment to adjust to the dim lighting. "Forgive me, Ms. Munroe, London was here and he has light issues." The skilfully places fixtures brightened and the room was revealed.

Wood panel walls and a hardwood floor made the office naturally dark, but the spread of windows behind the desk brightened it a little. There were hundreds of little plants and waterfalls, not overwhelming, but beautifully arranged. In the corner was a bar, with a monkey perched upside down, playing with a toy.

"This is Winston," she introduced. "If he tries to play with your hair, feel free to smack him away – but he should know better." The graceful redhead offered Ororo a seat. "What can I do for you?"

Storm twisted her hands in her lap nervously. She felt bad asking, but she also felt bad not asking…

"I know this is a little strange, but could I perhaps… stay somewhere else?" Cardinal looked a little surprised, but then smiled genuinely.

"Staying in Illyria's space is unnerving you?"

"I feel like I'm intruding."

"Of course, one second." She reached for Caroline and pressed a few buttons. "Caroline, find Felix for me, please." Ororo's breath hitched at his name and she hoped Cardinal hadn't heard.

"He's in his office. I'll put you through." The electronic voice unnerved Ororo – she was used to only hearing one like it in the Danger Room.

"Yeah, Queen C, what can I do for you?" Felix's voice sounded rich and warm after Caroline's.

"My office. There's something I need you to do for me."

"Be right there." True to his word, Felix got there less than a minute later. His big frame made the room look smaller. Today he wore a dark green Abercrombie & Fitch hoodie over black jeans. His long hair was tied back out oh his eyes but loose at the back, some straight black strands falling over his shoulder. "Lay it on me, Boss."

"Ms. Munroe was uncomfortable in Illyria's space, alone. I need to move her."

"She can stay with you. You've only got the Wolverine, they're both - "

"Tsch!" She snapped. "We don't short change our guests. St. John Allerdyce can move in with the Wolverine, and Ms. Munroe can have your Grey Room, unless that is a problem." Felix looked at both the women.

"Could you give us a minute, Ororo?" Storm looked between the two doubtfully, but nodded anyway, shutting the door firmly behind her. Felix whipped around and stared into Cardinal's gray eyes.

"You're planning something." He accused.

"I am."

"You're manipulating me." She sat back in her leather chair and smiled.

"I prefer to think of it as outcome engineering. Do you trust in my judgment, Felix?" He rolled his eyes.

"You know I do."

"Then do this. 'Let go your fear, embrace your hope' is what Bliss said, I believe."

"Bliss' crazy!" He protested.

"But she is never wrong." He paced up and down for a minute, torn between being pissed at Cardinal for her meddling, and being glad he was going to have a chance.

"Fine." She accepted his curt response and he showed himself to the door where Ororo was waiting. "Come on."

When they reached Illyria's flat, Storm went to collect all her things and Felix wondered around his partner's personal space. He went to her mail slot, where Caroline would put anything that came in the post, and checked it. The first envelope was a job offer; the second was a ten grand paycheck and the third…

The third was a plain white envelope that just said: Blue. It hadn't been mailed, just dropped off at The Pit. If he hadn't already guessed whom it was from, he would have checked the security footage. He tore it open and upended it on her table.

A plane ticket to Tangiers, Morocco dated January 1st, and a return ticket on January 3rd. Rental details for a small house outside the city. A map, a motorcycle key and scrap of paper with a smiley face on it. Wade had planned their tri-monthly trip. Fuck.

Felix ran a hand down his face, praying Illyria would wake up before Christmas. If Wade found out what was going on… Rogue … well actually, Rogue would be dead. That thought didn't bother him. What _did_ bother him was how Storm would feel about that. Dammit!

Angrily, he marched to Illyria's answering machine, ignoring Ororo, who was ready to leave. She had four messages. The first and second were job offers, the third was more interesting.

"_Hope you got the travel plans. Can't talk now, busy, busy. Let me know if there's anything I missed._" Wade's voice faded away, and Felix wasn't sure how he felt about the guy – not like he ever was. The last voice mail was from an old friend across the pond. Felix played it back, but wasn't all that interested. Blue would call back when she got up.

He fed Sergio, and made sure the cat flap was open and the litter box was clean. If he let the place go to shit, Blue would kill him. Eventually he couldn't stall anymore, so he took Ororo back to his flat.

Ash was at the kitchen table doing math homework when they came in. He kicked Johnny out, and moved Ororo in before sitting down opposite his daughter.

"Are you okay, Dad?" He blinked at her.

"Am I okay?" She stood up and came around the table, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"You need to get some rest." He smiled absently, but neither agreed nor disagreed with her. She kissed his forehead lovingly before going back to her math homework.

Felix looked around his house distractedly. Ororo had come back, and when his two dogs trotted in, he made introductions.

"This is Domino," He indicated a big male Dalmatian, his black and white spots shifting as he moved. "He can be kinda difficult, but he won' hurt you. That over there is Her Majesty The Queen." His gray husky looked at him with her eerie blue-white eyes (a lot like London's, now that he thought of it). "Just Her Majesty for short. She'll ignore you." Ororo nodded, but he didn't really notice. "Taz, the cat, he's around somewhere too." He rubbed his chest. Something was wrong. The two boys had come in from the TV room and they were talking quietly with Ash. Ororo was watching him. Domino was scratching himself. His cell phone was ringing. There were people everywhere…

Felix looked around, desperately in need of a way out. He had to get the fuck out of here… He stood up from the table so suddenly he nearly knocked the chair over and made a mad dash for the French doors. He heard Ash and Ororo both calling him, but he needed to be outside. He needed to breathe… He needed…. He needed  
>Illyria to come the fuck home.<p>

He was only just keeping it together. Only just hanging by a thread. He had to be brave for his daughter, he had to be strong. He hit the door like a wrecking ball and it swung open, the freezing winter air nearly crippling him. His fingertips burned and his toes tingled, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up and his scalp ached. He knew this feeling.

"Dad?" Aisling was at door. "You okay?"

"Go inside, baby."

"What's going on?"

"Get Haven. Now." She did as he said, having picked up on what was going on. She also cleared the flat of any collateral damage (in the form of X-men) and left him alone in the cold.

Fuck, Felix's fingers burned, but still he fought it. He wouldn't shift. Not here, not now. No. No! He knew, rationally, that the more he fought it the more it would hurt, but still – he refused to change, not before Haven got there.

He didn't remember falling to his knees. He didn't remember taking his hoodie off, but he did remember the minute blood started to seep out form under his fingernails. He wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, he wanted to destroy – but that wasn't what the Reverend did, was it? He was supposed to keep his cool – no mater what. Fuck, this shit hurt!

By the time Haven got there, Felix was so consumed with fighting his body, he didn't have any strength left to spare for conversation. Haven threw up a barrier.

"Do it." He said, and Felix let go. His body exploded outwards, clothes tearing and hitting the ground. He heard Ororo scream, but all that was far away compared to the pain. His bones broke and reformed, his joints popped and refitted, his skin burned, but still he wouldn't scream. Ash hadn't gone through her first change yet – he wasn't going to scare her by showing how much it hurt.

Finally it was over, and his now-huge, furred body lay in a puddle on the balcony. He pulled himself up and stretched luxuriously, paws grabbing at the wood and raking through it, leaving eight deep grooves. _This _felt good. This body wasn't tired and burned out form lack of sleep and too much worry. This body wanted to run for miles and miles. He wanted to fly, he wanted to cross icy planes and hunt in the snow… he wanted freedom, he wanted a chance to run.

Ororo watched as the huge rusty-red and black tiger pulled himself to his feet. He must have weighed at least a thousand pounds, with his huge head, long body and thick coat. If she'd had to bet on his breed, she'd have said Siberian, but he wasn't the color of any tiger she'd ever seen. He was…

"Beautiful." She whispered. "Absolutely beautiful." His tail twitched as he caught sight of the three people watching him. Haven had him caged inside a barrier of energy, for safety's sake. Ash was watching with wide eyes, even though she'd seen this before. And Ororo was struck speechless.

Ever so slowly, he padded over, his paws making almost no sound. Haven dropped the energy barrier, apparently reassured that Felix wasn't going to eat anyone. Aisling put her hand up and Felix chuffed into it, running his face along her arm and twisting and turning around her body.

"Hey, Dad." The girl smiled. "You look good." He threw his head back and rumbled playfully, before chuffing at Haven, then pinning Ororo with huge, amber eyes. "He won't hurt you." Aisling said, taking a step back to give Felix room to move.

"Can he understand me?" She asked, Ash nodded. "Felix?" The huge tiger brushed up against her, his weight nearly making her over balance. He let her stoke his back – which was so soft she thought she must have been imagining it – and scratch behind his ears, before he unfurled his wings and took off to the North in a gust of wind.

"Can you make it snow, further North?" Aisling asked.

"Of course, why?"

"Siberian tigers. We like snow." She shrugged. Ororo concentrated on forming the right kind of clouds, then letting it snow. Felix had already faded form view.

"When will he come back?"

"When he feels like it, I expect." The teen peered out into the distance. "He's just blowing off steam." With that, Haven held the door for her and she went inside.


End file.
